It Falls to the Young
by Viskii
Summary: During their summer at Order HQ, the suspicious Marauders clash with the secrets of Severus Snape: his unforgiving father, Albus' loyalty, a past that haunts his nightmares... But no one expected friendship, nor the consequences thereof. Plus cute!Tonks.
1. If a Train Leaves Platform Nine and

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DISCLAIMER:** If I was JK Rowling, I'd be writing canon, not fanfiction. Don't sue, please.

**SUMMARY:** This a Severus Snape-centric AU beginning the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts. The main focus is on Severus' evolving relationship with the Marauders, once they come to the conclusion that the only way to get through this summer intact is to cooperate. I wrote this fic as a response to a series of what-ifs that kept nagging me, the main one being: _What if Severus had come to Dumbledore sooner? _

Other main characters include Dumbledore, Snape's father, the Marauders, Nymphadora Tonks, and later her parents. Genres include humor, angst, action/adventure, hurt/comfort, friendship and family. This was begun a good year before HBP; therefore it incorporates some small details but not the majority (a.k.a., what we learned about Snape's family and the Half-Blood Prince.) There are no main or non-canon pairings. At least for a good while... ;)

**WARNINGS** include DE violence and language, mild spoilers for all books, and a slightly OOC Snape, if we're going by canon. As his upbringing, past, and indeed the entire history of this AU have been rather different than canon, I do consider his personality fair game. However, I have done my best to keep everyone as in-character as possible, including the magical world itself. (Thank you, HP Lexicon!) And, of course, the biggie: NO SLASH OR SEX. Just friendship.

**DEDICATION: **This prologue is dedicated to JK Rowling, because it's all her fault. Thanks, Jo.

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It Falls to the Young Prologue:  
(being a brief narration two and three-quarter years prior to our tale) ****  
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_**If a Train Leaves Platform Nine and Three Quarters at Nine o'clock...**_

Noise.

Good Merlin, was there noise.

He had been anticipating this day for longer than he could remember. He'd spent half his life calculating exactly how many more minutes remained until he would finally, finally board the famed scarlet steam engine—and now all he could do was stare in mute astonishment at the chaos surrounding him.

He had visited Knockturn Alley, twice; but those crooked streets boasted only the occasional lone pedestrian who passed by quickly with his head down. Never a teeming mob of humanity composed of what seemed to be dozens, if not hundreds of people—an unprecedented multitude that threatened to overwhelm his senses with movement and noise and confusion. It made Severus' head hurt.

The train sounded what might have been a warning whistle. Severus dragged his battered trunk through the crowd, trying to avoid all the people around him—dodging tearful mothers, a pair of arguing wizards, clusters of giggling girls and the boys ogling them. After tripping twice over someone's cat, he found an empty compartment on the far side of the station. Hauling his trunk up the narrow steps was far easier said than done; by the time he'd made it halfway a short yet impatient line had formed. Their muttering alerted a Ravenclaw prefect, who looked up from his book long enough to roll his eyes and hoist Severus' battered trunk into the corridor.

After shoving it into a corner, Severus curled up by the window to observe the sea of people swarming by. They were fascinating to watch, amazing in their variety—though he did wish they'd be a bit quieter. Dominating the little group still waiting to board the train were two black-haired boys, one tall, one short; both radiated confidence and they seemed to have developed an immediate friendship, judging by their loud laughter which was attracting the attention of half the platform. A short, blonde witch walked over and embraced the shorter boy, who protested with rolled eyes and an embarrassed face. Opposite their stack of trunks and owls stood a red-haired girl whose parents looked just as nervous as she did—_could they be Muggles? They aren't wearing robes... _Severus stared at the maybe-Muggle family, intrigued in spite of himself, until he was distracted by a figure already clad in a sweeping black Hogwarts' uniform, attire accented by a glistening golden badge. Severus knew the Head Boy by name, if not by sight: _Lucius Malfoy. One to be wary of._

A hundred more unknown faces later Severus felt the train jump forward with a lurch quickly echoed by his heart.

_Moving... _

He was moving on. He hadn't the slightest idea what lay ahead, but it just had to be better than what he was leaving behind. Severus watched as the black-haired boys in the compartment ahead of him leaned out the window, waving and shouting good-byes to those remaining on the platform. His heart lurched again, briefly, until he smothered it with the hopes and dreams that had driven him this far...

_What will it be like? What—well, I know I'll be in Slytherin, I have to be—but where will everyone else be sorted? What are their names? What are they like? Maybe I could have friends..._ Severus bit his lip. To be riding the Hogwarts Express was inconceivable enough; he'd better not expect miracles. _Well, those boys looked decent, if overly boisterous. Perhaps they're first years as well..._

_At Hogwarts. Hogwarts._ The name was delicious on his tongue, more delectable than anything he'd ever tasted. Hogwarts was freedom, Hogwarts was hope—a new life, a life that would carry him through the mire until he graduated and could make his escape permanently. He'd spent hours engraving every last detail of this sacred promise upon his imagination; he'd practically memorized Hogwarts, A History, he was as prepared as was possible. The school had already bestowed upon him treasures beyond imagining—books of his very own—_secondhand, of course, but who cares?_—and robes and a cauldron and most of all a wand..._ And freedom. I won't see Father until Christmas._

He looked out at the farmlands and birds flying past. Outside a cow was lazily chewing its cud, watching the Hogwarts Express roll past. It was the first living creature to witness Severus Snape smile.

* * *

Five hours, forty seven minutes, thirty-two seconds and three hundred sixty five days later Severus Snape leaned his forehead against the window of the Hogwarts Express and stared out, his mind further away than Timbuktu. 

He had never been an optimist, save one brief period roughly a year ago. He wondered if it had been a brief period of insanity. _Optimists were fools._

To think he had believed Hogwarts an escape! A refuge! He sneered in disgust; the idea was laughable. Behind the innocent façade of classes and Quidditch the same evil lurked; it had permeated through Slytherin house particularly. Half the house knew what his father was; the rest had the rumors and his reputation to decipher. Half the house knew of the Dark Lord's rising influence; the rest had the _Daily Prophet _to decipher... _Hell, half the house's alumni are involved._

Slytherin was no sanctuary, but the other houses were hardly better. _To think I once considered James Potter and Sirius Black anything but the most despicable, arrogant scum that ever disgraced the school with their presence._ The two had acquired a following in the form of Pettigrew—_pudgy, talent-less oaf little better than a squib—_and Lupin, a sickly bookworm who would have been almost decent but for his choice of friends. They called themselves the Marauders—_Merlin knows why_—and their undeclared purpose in life was to make Severus' hell.

It had begun almost innocently: Black had laughed at him in Transfiguration after he'd accidentally transformed his desk into a giant mushroom. Severus retaliated with a scathing remark concerning Black's resemblance to the giant squid; the vain git threw a fit and hexed him—resulting in ten points from Gryffindor, ten from Slytherin and the commencement of a war.

As the year continued the battle escalated. The Gryffindors discovered they could gain fame at the expense of the greasy-haired Slytherin who was the least-popular first year at Hogwarts; Severus discovered that similar antics and the resulting point loss made him as disliked in Slytherin as Gryffindor. So he tried to end it, but the Gryffindors were not so keen on stopping—not now that they had Lupin to watch for teachers, Pettigrew to drool in excitement, and the rest of their year to applaud. Not when they had such advantages.

So it continued. They made fun of his greasy hair, his hooked nose, his pallid skin, his ill-fitting and worn robes. They jinxed him bright pink and tripped him in the corridors. They stole his Transfiguration homework and changed his quills into worms. They forged his signature on insulting notes and love letters to seventh year girls. They locked him in the bathroom all afternoon. They convinced half the school to call him Snivellus. They sent him a box on Christmas stuffed with Dungbombs and roaches. They laughed whenever he fumbled his wandwork; they laughed when he changed his mouse into a puddle of jam, they laughed when he charmed Flitwick to glow iridescently, and they laughed at his complete lack of anything resembling athletic ability.

Flying class had been a living nightmare. He'd never ridden a broom before and had been nervous, whereas Potter and Black were both more than capable flyers and obvious candidates for Gryffindor's Quidditch team. They'd had fun. Afterwards he had vowed to never willingly mount a broom again.

Severus took a deep breath and shuddered. His hands were trembling; he rubbed his arms absent-mindedly and winced. _It's all trivial, anyway. I shouldn't distract myself like this. Not with what's ahead._ For though the Gryffindors were bad, they weren't evil, and Severus had lived through worse. Far worse—and while Hogwarts was not the sanctuary he had once believed in, it was still a refuge of sorts, one he'd missed desperately as the summer days had come and gone. Midsummer had been unspeakable. Severus could not imagine ever again returning to the place he refused to call home, to the man he refused to call father—but he had nowhere else to go. _And who would believe me even if I told them?_

* * *

Severus hid in the shadows of the second floor corridor until he heard McGonagall announce the password. A half hour slipped by. McGonagall reappeared and strode down the hall, her shoes tapping loudly against the stone floor. 

"_Acid Pop,_" he whispered.

The gargoyle leapt aside, granting Severus access to the Headmaster's quarters. He stepped hesitantly onto the ever-spiraling staircase; it carried him upwards to a gleaming oak door. The door swung open before he could knock, revealing a large and pleasant office—a circular room, filled to overflowing with snoozing portraits, ancient books, and twiddling little gadgets that squeaked and whirled at random intervals. Anchoring these fancies was a huge, claw-toed desk that reigned from the center of the office, topped with stacks of parchment and a long, red quill.

"Come in, Severus."

Severus stepped through the doorway. The Headmaster sat not at his desk, but in one of two comfortably ancient armchairs placed by the fireside. Few candles were lit, and midnight's shadows were calm and inviting. The rug was soft and squishy beneath his feet; Severus felt a sudden inexplicable desire to remove his shoes and spend an eternity simply standing there, with warm carpet between his toes and the Headmaster's eyes in his soul.

"Sit."

He sat.

"Would you like some tea?" Severus shook his head. The Headmaster poured him a cup anyway and he drank it, hands trembling, as the wise blue eyes continued to survey him.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

"Please assure me," the Headmaster finally began, eyes twinkling in a smoothing manner, "that you do not also wish to report a food fight between Peeves and the entire student population of your house?" Severus looked up at the Headmaster. He shook his head again, his mouth almost twitched into a smile...

...then he buried his face in his hands, hiding behind his filthy, greasy hair, ignoring the teacup which shattered on the floor and sobbing a tear for every thousand once suppressed.

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Kindly review and feed the starving author. How else can I know what you think? -Rattles tin cup-

**UPDATED: July 1, 2007 with a much more detailed summary and an utterly unsuccessful attempt to make Quickedit cooperate. Waaah.**

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	2. Enter a Phoenix, a Spy, and his Less

DISCLAIMER: Only the owner can write canon. This is not canon. What does that tell you?

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to my sister, for her betaing, and for the helpful comments only a sibling can provide, a.k.a: "yes you idiot I do like it".

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter I:**

_**Enter a Phoenix, a Spy, and his Less-Than-Reverent Thoughts Concerning Four Gryffindors**_

The cellar was going to do nicely. Most would not have been impressed by its plain appearance and dimly-lit corners, but Severus surveyed the cold, cement floors from the perspective of one considering potion spills, saw the simple furniture as a comfort, if not a luxury, and was perfectly content to spend his summer holidays in the shadows—particularly in consideration of who was living in the daylight upstairs.

The daylight upstairs was something Severus planned to avoid indefinitely. But he'd have to venture from the cellar at some point—if only for pumpkin juice and sandwiches—and the kitchen, like the rest of the building, was self-declared Gryffindor territory. Spending ten weeks in the company of those prats was not Severus' idea of a good time.

It appeared the feeling was mutual.

"But _Professor!_ What if he finds out?" Potter's whining voice carried down the staircase and Severus frowned; he had neglected to close the door.

"Severus will not learn of the Order's existence, or that this is Order headquarters, as long as you heed my instructions and _leave him alone_. I trust your mutual dislike will keep interaction to a minimum, and—"

Severus shut the door and Dumbledore's voice dulled to a murmur. _Thank Merlin the walls are relatively soundproof. If I had to listen to their ignorant prattle twenty-four hours a day I'd be in St. Mungo's by July._

A sudden flash of fire reverberated off the room's stone walls; on the stripped bed in the corner appeared a large package wrapped in brown paper, twine and a phoenix.

"Hello, Fawkes." The bird glared at him, talons hopelessly tangled in the twine. "This would be why owls usually deliver the post," Severus admonished, freeing the phoenix with a flick of his wand. Fawkes flew to his shoulder and nipped his ear fondly before disappearing in another flash of fire.

Severus tore open the package, which contained his meager belongings and presumably a few things the Headmaster had acquired for him... _Yes, definitely Dumbledore,_ he thought, diving under the bed as the package—charmed for instantaneous unpacking—exploded outwards.

Once everything was settled he emerged from beneath the bed and saw that Dumbledore had indeed gifted him with some new possessions. His potions ingredients were restocked and further furnishings for the room itself had appeared—along with a gleaming, custom-made silver cauldron of justthe right size, meant for the research he did at Dumbledore's request. He'd been waiting a month for that cauldron and his fingers itched to use it.

The rest of him desperately wanted to curl up on the bed's green duvet with a book and ignore reality for a few hours. _Reality being that I am, and will continue to be, in close proximity to the four most arrogant Gryffindors in existence._ Not even the Ministry's recent declaration that underage magic would not be monitored until further notice—"due to recent events which are more pressing upon our resources"—_a.k.a. the Dark Lord_—could make up for that. Severus sighed and, after deactivating several nasty protective spells, flipped open the case that contained his precious potions and their related paraphernalia...

"AHHHH! The—doorknob's—RUDDY—HOT—!"

Severus smirked. Pettigrew had just discovered that trespassing in his cellar was not an option. _Maybe I should put up a sign: Please No Bloody Gits. It's their own fault I'm here in their "territory," anyway... _He halted that train of thought abruptly and concentrated on unpacking his scales. Despite those living in the daylight upstairs, Severus was pleased to be spending the summer at Order headquarters, and he did not want that pleasure ruined by owing it to the Gryffindors.

They, as Potter had vocalized, were upset enough over his presence. Spending the summer at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was obviously something of an adventure for them, one not likely to deflate their overblown sense of self-importance. _At least Dumbledore didn't let them join the Order; that would have been an unprecedented disaster._ _They're here for protection, not to attempt any save-the-world stunts._

_Yes, that's my job._ Severus snorted and began slicing up the hellebore.

So the Gryffindor gang was likely to be even more insufferable than usual this summer. If that was even possible. _Oh, we're high and mighty, oh, we get to use magic over the summer, oh, we get to stay at Order headquarters, oh, we're the ones the Dark Lord's trying to kidnap..._ Severus sighed and dropped the hellebore into a beaker for storage. It was true that Potter would make an excellent hostage_—only child of Richard Potter, Auror extraordinaire—_and Black was such a well-known blood traitor that he'd been targeted as well, _the bloody fool. He should've kept his trap shut. _And then Lupin and Pettigrew were damned by association...

Thus there had been several failed attempts on the Marauders' lives last year. _Not that they seem to care; it's done nothing to subdue their enthusiastically suicidal stupidity._ Severus cared, though not particularly about the Gryffindors' safety; rather, he had been charged with discovering who was responsible.

He paused to sneer at four imaginary Gryffindor faces, shocked even further into idiocy by the realization that he, the "evil, greasy-haired bastard," worked for Albus Dumbledore. _Let alone the coronary they'd have if they learned we were friends._ But the Gryffindor gang didn't know, nor did anyone else. Everyone—Death Eaters and Order members alike—thought it was a coincidence that he'd won a school-sponsored summer of extra potions tuition the same year Professor Slughorn retired; they did not suspect that Albus had fabricated the entire contest. The Dark Lord, fooled once again with Occlumency, had been pleased at the prospect of obtaining more information from Dumbledore and had immediately appointed Severus a spy. No one on the light side suspected that Severusknew of the Order's existence, let alone that he was technically a member. They knew the Headmaster had a spy but certainly didn't consider _Snivellus_ a candidate for the post.

While that did nothing to promote his reputation among the Order, it left Severus free to watch silently from the shadows... _free to watch and uncover the traitor_. That was what troubled Dumbledore most—the Dark Lord's hidden influence at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had ample reason to be concerned; the night Severus had been marked he'd heard, through the fog of pain, a conversation between the Dark Lord and another of his newly-consecrated minions. Only a few words penetrated into Severus' mind, but their message was invaluable: there was a Death Eater at Hogwarts, a Death Eater who had it in for the Gryffindor gang. And that was intolerable—_at least to the Headmaster._

So, due to the Dark Lord's recent decision to mark adolescents, half the school had been living under the combined scrutiny of Dumbledore and himself—and perhaps McGonagall, he suspected she was in the Order too—but his fourth year was finally over, and they still hadn't uncovered the Death Eater. In hope of remedying the situation before fall term, the Headmaster had decided to keep Severus close over the summer..._ and here I am, residing in the hostile territory known as 402 Griffin Street._ Severus sighed again, setting his silver cauldron on the table and surveying the now-immaculate room with satisfaction. _All done._

Severus allowed himself the liberty of collapsing backwards on the bed. _Mmmmm._ It really was soft. He kicked off his shoes and reached for the book on the bedside table, 729 Incredibly Complicated Potions No One Sane Would Ever Even Think of Considering Brewing. _Sorry, Dumbledore, but further research will just have to wait a few hours. Why you are suddenly so interested in treating lycanthropy is beyond me anyway. _He opened the book to chapter fourteen—_Interesting Truth Serums You Wouldn't Want to Experience_—and proceeded to ignore reality in a very through manner.

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What's good? What's bad? What's ugly? How do I know unless you review? Please do. :)


	3. I’d like to Introduce You to Nymphadora

DISCLAIMER: Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to everyone in the world who appreciates proper grammar. I love you. -Kisses-

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter II:**

_**I'd like to Introduce You to Nymphadora Tonks**_

He wasn't good at guessing children's ages, but she couldn't have been more than six years old. Her hair was done up in two little pigtails that stuck straight out sideways, giving her an impish look that would have been cute in any other situation.

"I'd like to introduce you to Nymphadora Tonks, half-blood daughter of two Order members..."

Severus was somewhat impressed by the girl's self-control. She was staring at the Dark Lord as if in a trance, big blue eyes leaking quiet tears, but she was not hysterical, as many victims became. _Then again, she probably has no idea what's going on._

_She hasn't seen her babysitter, lying dead on the couch._

"...who I am sure will be most displeased to hear that their only child has been tortured to death. What a pity. Perhaps we shall send them her body as a sympathy gift?"

The ring of masked and cloaked figures laughed appreciatively. They had heard of the Tonks family, as had Severus. Andromeda and Ted were pioneers in their field of magical research: helping heal torture victims. He had taken some of their potions himself, and acknowledged their effectiveness; in fact, they had saved his sanity more than once. _So this is their daughter. I wish we could have met under more pleasant circumstances..._

"You—"

Severus drew his wand with his right hand and closed his eyes for a brief moment. He could sense the presence of every person in the room; there was the towering dark crescendo that was the Dark Lord's mind, there the essences of his followers, muffled by their enchanted masks...

"—may—"

And the smallest of all, a bubbling pink sparkle which was Severus's goal. He reached into the mind of Nymphadora Tonks and was immediately drenched in the unreasoning, all-consuming terror of a child.

"—begin," the Dark Lord concluded.

_Nymphadora I'm your friend I don't have much time you need to listen to me now I'm going to help you get back to your Mum and Dad but I need you to help me so just relax and let me take control... Let me take control..._

Malfoy and Dolohov hit her with the Cruciatus at the same time and Severus thought he would explode in agony. Fortunately, he could scream through Nymphadora; he could scream and roll on the ground thrashing in indescribable torment, while watching himself from the side with a cool, aloof demeanor, appearing more bored than anything. _Maybe I _am_ schizophrenic. It'd be the first time Black was right about something..._

Things continued in this manner for some time; the Death Eaters cast various curses on Nymphadora and consequently Severus, who was concentrating entirely on maintaining their connection and continuing to stand upright. _I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate the Dark Lord. Bastard. I hate this, hate this, hate—ARRGGGHHHH! Why do I do this? _

Severus forced himself to take a deep breath and ignore the memories that streamed through his head. He had a job to do. This was Nymphadora _Tonks,_ daughter of the couple whose potions had significantly improved his quality of life over the past three years; he had a debt to pay and he was not going to let her suffer. _And what child deserves the Cruciatus?_

_Don't like it,_ Nymphadora ventured to complain from her sheltered niche in the back of his mind.

_I don't either shut it this is the tricky part... _

The next curse, cast by Travers, missed her nose by an inch. Severus didn't blink. He watched himself—_no, Nymphadora—_stare ahead unresponsively, eyes as blank and uncomprehending as a doll's.

"You think we've set her?"

"You're right, she's not reacting..."

"Insane in twenty-two minutes—that's a new record."

"So, do we still kill her?"

"No..." hissed the Dark Lord, instantly silencing his followers. "No... we'll leave her here, just like this. Let her parents heal _that_, if they can. You are dismissed."

The Death Eaters began to Disapparate. A half-dozen or so spoke loudly of their plans to crash a muggle pub, but the majority left for their homes. Someone cast _Morsmorde_ and the Dark Mark flared across the sky, sheltering the stars from the sight of yet another atrocity.

Severus was saved the task of manufacturing an excuse to remain behind when a tall man who wore intimidation like a cloak motioned for him to approach. Once they were alone he removed his mask, revealing deadly pale skin, bloodshot eyes and greasy hair. _Garridan Snape._

"You have the assignment?"

Wordlessly, Severus removed a vial from his pocket and dropped it into the man's hand. Garridan held it up to the moonlight, squinting to examine the potion's color and density, while Severus examined his gloves. They were an expensive affair even Malfoy would have respected, made from the finest leather and intricately embroidered with the runes used by professional demon-raisers. _These for the man who can't afford a decently fitting uniform for his son._

"And do you have any new information, boy?" he hissed. Severus shook his head, breathing through his mouth so he wouldn't choke from the fierce odor of Firewhisky on the man's breath. His mind retreated from the noxious black fires of the man's presence...

"Pity." The syllables clinked together like chains, hovering in the air a moment before falling. "The Dark Lord is not patient—nor am I. _Crucio._"

Perhaps two minutes later Severus was released from the curse. He'd fallen on his knees before his tormentor, who continued speaking, voice dripping contempt: "Have something next time, along with this. Or else." He dropped a bit of parchment to the ground before Disapparating in a swirl of black robes.

_Just once I'd like to see him complete his own bloody assignments_. Severus scowled behind his mask, snatched the parchment from the carpet and tucked it inside his own robes. He—too tired for his usual stalk—dragged himself over to Nymphadora Tonks, who continued to stare at the wall unresponsively.

He pulled away from her mind and her gaze shifted; she stared at him a moment before beginning to cry again, this time more fervently.

"Honestly, I can't blame you," he muttered, lifting her into his arms. She protested a moment, until he spotted by his feet a ragged orange cat he assumed was her version of the stereotypical stuffed companion. Once it was in her grasp she quieted, and Severus—after gathering together the fragments of his mind dispersed and frayed by the Cruciatus—Disapparated.

* * *

Severus grimaced as he downed a cup of foul tasting anti-Cruciatus potion. Within a few minutes the spasms of his limbs—a trademark of the curse—had dulled to barely noticeable tremors, and though he couldn't feel it Severus knew the potion was fighting to repair his damaged nerve endings. However, the many aches and cramps—not to mention the blinding headache—failed to succumb to numbness.

It was times like these when only the thought of his father kept him from attempting to drown the pain with Firewhisky.

Nymphadora was watching him from her perch on his bed, a simple Calming Draught having dispersed all anxieties within her bubbling mind. She was with him only because Severus had no idea what else to do with her. _Dumbledore will handle it when he arrives. _But until then there was a child loose in his room. On his bed. Where he desperately wanted to collapse and let fall unacknowledged tears until he fell asleep.

"Who are you?"

He frowned at the comment. _One would think she'd be more frightened, having seen me in full Death Eater regalia bowing before the Dark Lord. Perhaps I gave her too much calming potion?_ Severus hesitated for a moment before deciding it would do no harm to tell her his name.

"Severus."

"Sev-rus," she pronounced with satisfaction. "I'm Nymphadora. I'm five but I'll be six soon. Do you know Mummy and Daddy? Where are they? Where is this? Who were the bad people? Where is Wendy? Why is your hair so nasty dirty? Why..." Her face suddenly split open in a huge yawn and Severus seized the opportunity to interrupt her barrage of questions:

"I know your parents," _or know of them, which is close enough,_ "and you'll see them soon. They will explain everything."

"I'm bored," she announced. "What are you doing?"

Severus rubbed his temples; he did not know how to deal with this... _child_... and he did not want to try.

"You look tired," the girl continued. "You should go to bed. When's your bedtime? Mine's at nine but sometimes later and one day I got to stay up real late on Halloween and Daddy let me have butterbeer even though it was after dinner—"

The relentless stream of chatter continued as he pulled his father's parchment from a pocket. The words on it were written in the Dark Lord's hand, forming a message both short and to the point. As always.

_Polyjuice Potion: three doses_

_Exploding Fluid: at least eight vials_

_Draught of the Living Death: one dose_

_By June 12th_

Severus returned the parchment to his robes, deciding he would rather begin work on the Headmaster's latest fancy than the Dark Lord's. He set out the silver cauldron and removed his notes from a desk drawer, scribbling _Experiment #21_ on the parchment in spidery handwriting that was barely legible, courtesy of his still-trembling fingers.

"—my kitty which my Uncle Alphard gave me for my birthday when I was little and her name is Sunshine Buttercup Rosemary Princess Rainbow Jewel Kitty but I just call her Kitty because that's too long like my Daddy said when—"

Severus nodded absent-mindedly towards the piping little voice by his waist and continued working. Apparently an occasional "Hmm" or "Very nice" was all it took to keep Nymphadora satisfied. That seemed almost reasonable, compared to the constant demands of every other person who knew him.

"—but now I'm a big girl and I'm not scared of the dark anymore except sometimes but it's okay because Mummy got me a nightlight that's a _fairy_ and it's all sparkly and floats—"

A squeak heralded the door's opening and Severus spun around, wand drawn faster than the eye could follow... but it was Dumbledore. _Who else would wear red and purple robes covered in dancing peacocks?_

Nymphadora and the Headmaster must have met before, because she ran squealing into his arms, gaining a peacock-covered hug and a chocolate frog for her exuberance. Dumbledore's lively blue eyes raised to meet Severus' gaze; he turned away, feeling suddenly nauseous, and added three drops of salamander blood to the potion to stabilize it.

The next thing he felt was a hand gently squeezing his shoulder and imbuing it with warmth. The rest of Severus shivered, though he hadn't realized he was cold until that very moment. The Headmaster's hand gently turned him around until he was facing the peacocks; he swallowed with a dry throat. Dumbledore lowered himself into the chair so that they were on eye level. Then he felt Dumbledore's mind—_white and yellow dandelions, buffeted by the wind_—press against his ever so gently, as if asking for permission. He extended it and the Headmaster closed his eyes to better view the events of the past four hours.

Nymphadora Tonks watched as they stood in silent communication for what seemed an eternity to her. Dumbledore pulled Severus closer, now their foreheads were touching; strands of greasy black hair intermingled with soft silver...

The connection broke and Severus took a deep breath that shuddered through his body, and then he was lost in his own peacock-filled embrace. He hated this. He hated reliving it all; he hated feeling all the pain he normally shunted aside. Aged hands stroked his hair, held him close, giving freely the comfort no one else would and reminding him why he did this in the first place.

After another long moment had passed Dumbledore pulled back and surveyed him over his half-moon spectacles. "Well done, once again," he said in lowered tones. "You will never cease to amaze me, Severus; even I had believed she was done for."

"I was lucky. If he'd decided to kill her—"

"I do not believe it was luck that kept her sane."

Severus lowered his eyes. The reassuring hand squeezed his shoulder again and Dumbledore continued softly: "We will speak more about this later. Now you need to get to bed. No buts." He changed Severus' robes into pajamas with a flick of his wand; another flick pulled back the bedcovers, and behind the twinkle of his eyes there was a look that refused to entertain any arguments.

Severus climbed into bed, feeling even wearier than before; Dumbledore extinguished the candles and sat for a moment on the edge of his bed, once more running fingers through his filthy hair.

"Sleep well, Severus."

He was asleep even before the Headmaster had steered Nymphadora out of the cellar.

* * *

Now is the time for all good readers to come to the aid of their author and click the little blue button that says "review". Thanks. :)


	4. The World and the Cheese Toast are

DISCLAIMER: If you think I'm JK Rowling, please Google "treatment for insanity" and follow the directions.

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to RivendellWriter, my first reviewer. Because deep inside, we all want to be the center of attention.

* * *

**It Falls to the Young Chapter III:**

_**The World and the Cheese Toast are Conspiring Against Me**_

"But what does it _do?_"

Severus sighed. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

"It puts people to sleep." _Permanently. But you don't need to know that._ He carefully poured a beaker of leech blood into the cauldron, where it hissed as if in pain.

"Oh. Why are you making it? Is it for Professor Albus?"

"Sort of. I'm doing a favor for... someone he knows. Why don't you finish your picture now?"

"Okay!" And with a youthful enthusiasm he never remembered having, Nymphadora grabbed a colored quill off his bed and continued to work on her latest masterpiece.

The girl had been spending a lot of time in the cellar lately. Merlin knew how she'd gotten the password, though he had his suspicions concerning Dumbledore's involvement—_he's always going on about "being more social," and who else would want her anywhere near me?_ He was hardly the type adults desired to influence their impressionable children. _And Black is her cousin, after all. Shouldn't she be following _him_ around?_ They certainly seemed fond enough of each other. Severus had walked in on one of their tickling fests in the kitchen just yesterday—and left without breakfast, courtesy of Black's fist.

Andromeda and Ted Tonks had moved into Headquarters as well, at least officially—with their house destroyed they had little choice. But the two elder members of the Tonks family were spending a lot of time at their research facility; they were supposedly on the verge of discovering something he could only classify as very important and very vague.

That left Nymphadora in a house full of Order members who spoiled her shamelessly but simply did not have the time to supervise her. And then there were the four lazy prats who simply would not assume the responsibility, even if she was Black's cousin.

Which left her to her own devices, all of which seemed to involve Severus for reasons he was sure would forever remain inexplicable. After a day or two he had decided to tolerate her company; it was... satisfying... to have a civil conversation with someone besides Dumbledore, even if the someone was a clumsy, overenthusiastic almost-six-year-old. _And she's decent, for a kid—more polite than most of the Order members, does what she's told, and significantly smarter than the Gryffindors. _Her willingness to nick him food from the kitchen didn't hurt either. He was almost fond of her.

Of course, not even the Dark Lord himself would ever convince Severus to admit that.

So here he was trying to brew a poison that would have given their Potions professor trouble while holding up his end of her rambling conversation and admiring the random scribbles she produced by the dozen. He had recently decided that, after anti-Cruciatus potion and the Headmaster, art supplies were what most preserved his sanity these days. Nymphadora was dangerously clumsy around his volatile brewing materials, but give her some colored quills and the world was out of danger for at least an hour or so.

He dropped slices of dragon heart into the cauldron, one by one. The potion shimmered violently and he worried their size had been a millimeter or two off, but soon it stilled and turned the murky orange shown in the reference book. A rare smile spread across Severus' face—not many wizards of any age could perfect such a potion on their first try. He yawned, glanced at the clock, and said something which reinforced the opinion that he should not be allowed around impressionable children.

"Nymphadora, it's almost nine o'clock. Get upstairs." She stuck out her lower lip in a pout, but a glare from Severus convinced her not to argue. Clutching her papers and the ever-present stuffed cat, she ran up the stairs and turned to say goodnight.

"Goodnight, Sev-rus!"

"Goodnight." The door slammed shut and he winced. _The inability to exist at a volume lower than ninety decibels seems to run in the Black family._ Severus cleaned off his desk, bottled and corked the poison, and stashed it in the bottom desk drawer—the warded drawer that contained his existence as a Death Eater.

He glanced at the clock again; nine fifteen. His stomach growled in protest against being neglected and he reluctantly climbed the stairs that marked the boundary of his sanctuary. As he made his way through the lonely grey corridors of the house he heard raised voices emerging from behind the library door. He would have ignored them had he not heard his name, repeatedly, enhanced with some more words parents did not like their children exposed to.

After completing his routine check for any malignant spells, Severus put his ear to the keyhole and listened.

"—completely ludicrous! He could kill all of us in our beds tonight—or tell You-Know-Who everything we've planned—"

"You could at least give him the benefit of the doubt, Moody."

"What doubt—he's a Slytherin! We know there's a spy attending Hogwarts and it might very well be him!" There were a few murmurs of agreement from others, most notably Potter's father. He was the Auror with a commanding stride and eyes that threatened every time Severus approached. The man's mind was iron trustworthiness, and he was rumored to be invaluable in a duel, but still... _It's nice to know there's a solid resistance against the Dark Lord, but why do they all have to be conspiring against me as well?_

"We can't prove anything, Alastor, and until we can we have to trust Albus," said McGonagall. "Until we have proof—if we _ever_ have proof—that he's taken the mark..."

"That's just it, woman!" Moody snapped. "Pull his sleeve up and see for yourself—let's end this debate!"

"You know what Dumbledore said—"

"But at the same time, Gideon," said Potter's mum, "as long as he's in the same house as the children—after what happened to Nymphadora... It worries me. I can't sleep until I know."

"I agree wholeheartedly, Eleanor. But still..."

Severus pulled away from the door. _Nothing new there._ _They've been having the same argument for weeks now._ He made it to the kitchen without further incident, purloined some leftovers from the evening meal and poured himself a glass of milk. Halfway through the potatoes rapid, scurrying footsteps alerted him to Nymphadora's approach. _Doesn't she ever sleep?_

"Hi Sev-rus!" she said, bouncing up and down in excitement.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"No. I was playing with Sirius and his friends and they made me go away the gits but guess what I found! It's special!" She shoved a stack of parchment into his hand. Severus only had to glance at the first page and discern Potter's handwriting before he knew it was probably rubbish. _But then again..._

"How do you know it's special?"

"'Cause they tried to hide it from me!" she squealed. Severus looked back down at the papers and flipped through them—_Transfiguration notes, Charms assignment, completely botched Potions essay, love letter to Lily Evans—hmmm, remember that for emergency blackmail—History of Magic essay... and..._

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs' _

_Notes on Becoming an Animagus_

"What's it say? What's it say? Is it a secret message?"

"It's just homework," he lied, discretely removing the relevant papers. "Why don't you take these back to where they came from—we wouldn't want to upset your _dear_ cousin."

"Only homework? Bugger. Okay!" she grabbed the still-large stack of parchment and raced off to parts of the house he'd never explored. Severus leaned back in his chair, intrigued by the girl's find. _Why would the Gryffindors want to become Animagi? That takes work—something they clearly revel in avoiding._ He cleaned up hurriedly, foregoing the rest of his meal in favor of looking over their notes. He wasn't really that hungry, anyway—it was a little known fact that long-term exposure to the Cruciatus wrecked havoc with one's digestive system.

* * *

"Look everyone, the cheese toast hath sent forth yet another miracle to humble us mere mortals! Snivellus hath _emerged_ from beneath the ground where he lives with the rest of the snakes and slugs—"

"Shut it, Black," Severus snarled, yanking a chair out from the kitchen table and trying to ignore the complete _prat_ on the opposite end, who was currently talking to his lunch like the lunatic he was.

"Oh, great and almighty cheese toast, pray tell me what we hath done to be subjected to Snivellus' odious and most disfigured presence! Hath we not burned enough heathen sacrifices to ye?" Potter snorted and milk flew out his nose.

_"...Malfoy said we're to burn it to the ground. Should be fun, eh?"_

"Hath we not properly groveled before your feet, oh master of us all?"

_"...now kiss the robes of your Master..."_

"Hath we not—"

"SHUT IT, BLACK!" Severus shouted, glaring across the table and drawing his wand. Black and Potter drew theirs as well, smirking at each other; Lupin frowned and Pettigrew bent over awkwardly so he wouldn't miss any of the action while retrieving his fork from the floor.

"What's going on in there?" called a voice from the drawing room.

"Nothing, Mum," Potter answered, wand still at the ready. Severus shot them the nastiest glare he could summon forth, grabbed a sandwich from the plate and stalked back through the doorway. _Bloody gits. I hope the giant squid eats the lot of them_.He took a bite of the sandwich and gagged—peanut butter and banana. _Disgusting._

* * *

Sev-rus was walking away from the kitchen and he looked mad. He was getting closer and closer and closer and closer and—didn't he see her?

"Hi Sev-rus!" Nymphadora exclaimed, looking almost straight up to the ceiling to see his face. Sev-rus leapt backward in surprise, sighed big like Daddy did when he had to work late, then swept past her without saying a word. _He didn't even say hi to me or anything!_

Disgruntled, Nymphadora walked into the kitchen, Kitty in tow. _There's Sirius! And James! And Remus! And... Peter. I don't like Peter—he smiles all wrong._ The four were talking.

"What's Snivellus' problem?" Sirius asked. "He's been even worse than usual lately."

"I didn't know that was possible," said Nasty Peter.

"He looked tired. Pass the mustard, please."

"Can do." James threw the jar to Remus. "And being tired is no excuse for being a git. Especially when you're already a bloody—"

"James Richard Potter! Watch your language!" That was Mrs. Potter who had entered through the other doorway. She was nice and smelled like cleanness and gave out biscuits sometimes and would pat Nymphadora's head and say...

"Nymphadora, dear, why don't we get you some lunch?" Mrs. Potter scooped her off the floor and settled her in a chair already out from under the table. She went about preparing a plate, talking to the boys as she worked: "What was that about, James?"

"Snape," he spat. "_Why_ Dumbledore—"

"I know, dear. Just... try to stay out of his way, all of you. Remember what the Headmaster said," she warned, gesturing with the butter knife.

"He's the one who came in here! He's trying to ruin our summer!" Sirius scowled at his cheese toast.

"Padfoot, this is the kitchen. It's lunchtime. He came in here to get a sandwich. I think you're getting as paranoid as Moody," said Remus.

"But then, this is Sniv—uh, Snape, that we're talking about. He's a nutter. I bet Nymphadora agrees with me." Peter smiled at her and the others grinned. Nymphadora made her pouting face; she liked Sev-rus a lot better than Nasty Peter, even when Sev-rus was grumpy.

"Here you go, dear," said Mrs. Potter, placing a plate before her. "Eat up." Nymphadora complied.

* * *

He woke up screaming.

There was a little boy and his older sister. They hid under the faded sofa cushions. They were muggles, they didn't know what was happening. The boy screamed as his sister died, clutching her disheveled bathrobe as if to pull her back to life.

There was an old wizard, hair as grey as Dumbledore's. His wrinkled hands coaxed delicate and valuable plants to grow in a way that would have made Professor Sprout envious. He threw curses but was surrounded and outnumbered; the last thing his deep blue eyes ever saw was the Dark Mark hanging over the smoking rubble which had once been his greenhouse.

There was an overweight man who wore red flannel pajamas spotted with the occasional dog hair. He watched helplessly, sobbing, as his wife and sister were raped and killed. They both had lovely hair that smelled of shampoo—black and golden curls which fell lifelessly onto the carpet.

There was another lengthy list of potions to brew for the Dark Lord, plus a few more ideas to pursue for Dumbledore's lycanthropy research. He would get no more sleep tonight; he needed to start working.

There was a clock on the wall. It declared the time to be two thirty-three in the morning.

There is a wise saying: _Life usually stinks at two thirty-three in the morning. _

Severus thought it stunk more often than that.

* * *

Severus: READERS! Comment! _Now!_ Or I'll use your fingers in my next potion.

Insightful!reviewer: How are we supposed to review without any fingers?

Severus: ...

**UPDATED: July 1, 2007. I felt like making my A/Ns wittier.**

Insightful!reviewer: Yeah, they do need work.

Author: ...


	5. Sneaking, Fighting, Exploding, Burning

DISCLAIMER: On top of spaghettiiiiiiii, all covered with cheeeese, if you think this is mineee, go get some help please.

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to the Harry Potter Lexicon. Anyone who's ever been there knows why!

* * *

**It Falls to the Young Chapter IV:**

_**Sneaking, Fighting, Exploding, Burning and Disapparating **_

The potion was at a delicate stage and he had somehow managed to run out of roach legs. _What self-respecting potions brewer ever runs out of anything as mundane as roach legs?_ Severus frowned in disgust as his feet carried him down yet another grey corridor. The few portraits that hung on the peeling wallpaper muttered grimly to themselves and frowned as he walked by.

After nicking some roach legs from the general supply room he strode back to the cellar door, muttered the password and slipped inside. Fortunately the greenish broth within his cauldron had not yet boiled over, and the addition of two dozen roach legs reduced it to a more tepid state of existence. He consulted the Dark Lord's reference, Encyclopedia of Entertaining Potions Guaranteed to Get You a Life Sentence in Azkaban, Vol. VII, and began to prepare the aconite and belladonna which would make this particular potion so potent.

Then he felt it: a shining gold presence, agile as a snitch. His eyes told him there was no one else in the room—_but the wizard who trusts his eyes is a bloody fool._ He drew his wand, squinting as though that would give him the ability to see through Potter's Invisibility Cloak...

...then he was tackled and fighting against the weight that had pushed him to the floor. Severus kicked out towards a glistening silk mind—_Black!_ Someone punched him in the stomach and he doubled up; suddenly it was over.

He lay flat on the floor, legs held down by Black—who was still half-covered with the Invisibility Cloak—and staring into Potter's face. Potter squinted back, glasses dangling from one ear because he needed both hands to restrain Severus' arms. Knowing his scrawny frame was essentially useless against two sets of Quidditch muscles, Severus waited to hear what about himself had so particularly offended them this time...

"Snivellus, where the heck are our notes?" Potter demanded.

Severus blinked. "Notes? What..."

"You know what notes! The ones in the pile under the bed I'm sure your greasy hands couldn't resist pawing through—the papers that _mysteriously_ moved three feet over and are now suppressing a whole new region of dust bunnies!"

Halfway through Black's rant he remembered what Nymphadora had discovered a few days ago. "I haven't the slightest idea what you are implying, Black, but if I desired to copy someone's homework I would certainly not have chosen your shoddy essays. What'd you manage on the last potions test? A Troll?"

"Liar," Black snarled. "I bet they're on your desk right now."

Potter turned to glance at the papers littering the workspace, his eyes widened, and all too late Severus remembered what he had been working on.

"What the hell are you playing at, Snivellus!" he shouted. "That's a Dark Arts book if I've ever seen one—and I'd bet a thousand galleons that potion's illegal—what is it, poison?"

Black twisted around to look and Severus seized the chance. He kicked Black in the knee and thrashed wildly against Potter's arms, jerking free. Potter sprung from his crouched position to grab Severus' wrist, but his leg knocked over the chair which fell with a crash into the candle stand, which shattered onto the table, right on top of his brewing supplies...

Half the vials broke, the cauldron tipped over and the amorphous green potion promptly exploded.

Severus coughed repeatedly, fighting the foul-smelling smoke emerging from the ruins of his cauldron. Potter was still grasping his wrist so he lashed out once more, but Black heard him coughing and punched him square in the jaw. He collapsed; now little black dots were swirling around with the smoke and his ears rang. _Funny, it sounds like someone descending the stairs..._

"_Evanesco!_" He didn't recognize the voice, but he certainly recognized that mind—the sphere of crackling energy that was Alastor Moody.

The smoke cleared away to reveal that all three teens were covered in disgusting green glop and sprawled on the scorched floor only feet from the melted remnants of the desk. Moody, wand still raised, made his way cautiously across the room, stepping on broken glass and scattered papers.

"What happened here?" he growled.

"That _git_," Potter spat, gesturing with his chin since his arms were still pinning Severus down, "had a Dark Arts book and he was brewing something, I bet anything it was poison—"

Moody's face contorted into a disturbing mixture of disgust and triumph. He grabbed Severus' left arm and ripped the sleeve up roughly, exposing the Dark Mark.

"Just as I suspected. _Petrificus Totalus!_" Severus' limbs locked together and he lay frozen on the floor. "Black, Potter—you alright?" Their eyes were wide, but they managed to produce affirmative noises, so Moody continued: "Make yourselves useful, then. See if any of this," he waved at the room's general chaos, "can be salvaged for further evidence."

He bent over Severus as the two boys went about their task. Moody's face was old before its time, weathered by an Auror's life. Severus tried to swallow, the beginnings of panic were starting to flutter about in his stomach. _Dumbledore will sort it out. He'll sort it out—calm down—Dumbledore will take care of it_...

"It'll be Azkaban for you, Snape," Moody whispered, prying Severus' wand from his unresponsive fingers, "if I have to drag you there myself..."

And then, at the worst possible moment, the Dark Mark started to burn.

Moody frowned as the Mark turned black, then laughed aloud. "Is it burning, laddie? That's just fine—let it burn," he hissed.

"Hey Moody, Prongs—look at this..." Black held up a torn sheet of paper. Severus squinted through the pain and recognized it; _Experiment Forty-Two for the Headmaster..._ "Look, it says basilisk venom—isn't that illegal?"

"And it says," Potter gasped, "for _lycanthropy..._ Good Merlin, you're trying to kill Remus!"

Severus only had time to think _What the hell—? _before Black was on him, punching as hard as he could. "HOW _DARE _YOU TRY TO KILL REMUS! WHAT'D HE EVER DO TO YOU, HUH?" Moody—reluctantly—restrained Black, but not before Severus had received a bloody nose. _Oooowwwwwwww._

"Leave him to the dementors, Sirius," Moody consoled. "Potter, run upstairs and find your father." Potter sent Severus another glare before leaping up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Moody frowned in concentration, flicked his wand and a rush of silvery wings followed Potter out the door. "And that'll bring Albus," he announced with satisfaction. _Good. Get here soon, Dumbledore—my arm hurts like hell and my Master is impatient._

"_Mobilicorpus_." Severus rose off the ground and unwillingly trailed Moody as they ascended the stairs. The Mark flamed with renewed vigor; the Dark Lord was angry at him. Desperate, Severus closed his eyes and felt towards the presence of Black's mind...

_Black?_

_What the—who—what are you?_

_I'm a friend. I need your help. It's very urgent. _Severus waited for Black to decide whether he was lying; he projected feelings of honesty and need to hurry the process.

_Um... okay?_

Severus slipped into the silk, prodding Black's consciousness away into a locked corner of his mind. He raised Black's wand."Moody?" he asked. The Auror turned his head, a question in his eyes... "_Stupefy!_"

Moody collapsed to the floor along with Severus' body.

_WHAT? You said you were a friend—who are you?_

"_Finite Incantatem,_" Severus said, pointing the wand at his own body and regaining the freedom of movement once more.

_You really left me little choice. _Severus twisted the wand towards himself—no, to Black—_Good night, Black._

_SNAPE?_

"_Stupefy._" As darkness overcame Black's vision Severus shook himself free of the tattered silk, opened his own eyes and Disapparated.

The Dark Lord was waiting.

* * *

Yeah it was short, but look! Plot! Oh boy, now we're really into it. (Sorry, I'm sarcastic today.) Anyway, Happy New Year everybody, and review, please:)


	6. Commandments and Consequences

DISCLAIMER: I think we're all glad I'm not JK Rowling.

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to candy canes. I got very addicted to sweets over the holidays...**

* * *

**

It Falls to the Young Chapter V:

_**Commandments and Consequences**_

Remus descended the stairs and found himself in the midst of chaos. Moody looked absolutely furious, he was shouting and gesturing wildly; James' dad was swearing; Sirius and James were covered in some sort of slime and were being questioned by several Order members. Everyone was yelling, and half the room's occupants looked like they were on the verge of hysteria. He tried to fight through the crowd to reach his friends, pushing through the pandemonium... _What on earth is going on?_

"I TOLD YOU, MOLLY! FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, WOMAN—"

"—he took over my mind like I wasn't even _there_ and—"

"Moody was right, murder us in our beds—"

"—to know is how the_ hell_ did he escape an Auror without his wand?"

"—TRYING TO BLOODY _KILL_ REMUS—"

"Gideon! What in Merlin's name is going on?"

"—and there's Dumbledore, ask him what—"

A sudden downpour of purple and gold sparks from the Headmaster's wand quieted the mob.

"I heard there was a problem," Dumbledore said calmly, "but in my one hundred and thirty one years of existence I have yet to discover a situation that could be improved by panicking." Everyone in the room but Moody looked chastised.

"Albus! That potions student of yours—Snape—"

"Yes?"

"HE'S A BLOODY DEATH EATER!"

Half the room's occupants gasped and Remus felt his stomach turn to lead. _Snape's a Death Eater—Good Merlin—of course he never was a candidate to win Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, but this?_ Oddly enough, however, the twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes remained, though his smile was gone.

"Yes, I know."

There was a stunned silence.

"You... know?" James' father repeated.

"Yes, I do know. Now, if that's settled, why don't we all go into the library and discuss this like rational beings—over a cup of tea." Still stupefied by the Headmaster's revelation, the crowd followed him meekly into the room and more or less collapsed on various pieces of furniture. Remus settled on a decaying couch between James and Sirius, who were both dripping slime and looking completely dumbfounded. Only Moody remained standing; he approached Dumbledore confrontationally.

"You knew," Moody growled, "You knew he was a Death Eater and you _invited him to live at Headquarters?_ I've heard of keeping your enemies close, Albus, but what the—_what were you thinking?_" he shouted.

The Headmaster, unperturbed, conjured up a tea set and poured himself a cup before responding. "Well, Alastor, at the moment I wasn't considering the fact that Severus is a Death Eater so much as I was considering that he is also a member of the Order of the Phoenix—an Order member who has earned my utmost trust and respect, which as you know is not given lightly." Dumbledore blew on his tea to cool it. Remus looked at his trembling hands and found that he, along with every other person in the room, was also holding a teacup. He raised it to his lips, once, twice, before James broke the silence with the words everyone was thinking:

"So... he's a spy?"

"Yes." Dumbledore's eyes still twinkled, dimly, but behind them Remus saw more age and sorrow than ever before. "Did any of you believe I would for one moment allow a truly suspicious character to step foot inside Order Headquarters? Any reservations I ever had concerning Severus disappeared years ago. He joined the Order before he bore the Dark Mark, he has obtained far more information than any of the Ministry's informants, he has saved a dozen lives personally and hundreds through prior warning—at the cost of ruining his own life and risking what little he does have every day." The Headmaster's long fingers lifted his teacup once more. "That is," he added quietly, "a rather large burden for a fifteen year-old to bear."

"But Headmaster," Sirius protested, "he... he—I think he possessed me... How...?"

"_Possession?_" Moody repeated. "Albus—if he'd use the Dark Arts on a teenager—"

"I hardly think a fifth year would be able to perform that kind of magic," said McGonagall, frowning.

"But how else—"

"Minerva is correct, Alastor," Dumbledore interrupted. "It was not Dark magic at all, simply Legilimency exercised to the extreme."

"The boy knows Legilimency?" James' father asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Severus is, by my own humble estimation, the most powerful Legilimens in Britain, if not the world. That is what makes him such an extraordinarily valuable spy: not many wizards are capable of shielding their minds from Lord Voldemort, and fewer still may cast an undetected Legilimens in his presence." At these words another ripple of disbelief spread throughout the room.

"Excuse me, Professor," Remus asked, wishing everyone wouldn't turn to stare at him, "but would someone mind explaining what exactly a Legilimens is?"

"A Legilimens," McGonagall answered, slipping into her lecturing tone, "is a witch or wizard who practices Legilimency; that is, the art of what muggles call mind reading—"

"Minerva!" Moody interrupted. "Legilimency is certainly _not_ mind reading. It is the ability to acquire knowledge of another's feelings and memories, the ability to know when someone is lying..."

"_But how did he take over my head?_" Sirius demanded.

Dumbledore set his teacup on the tray. "As I said before, Severus is very powerful Legilimens. I have reason to believe that he actually _sees_ the minds of those surrounding him, as easily as he views their physical form. The way he speaks of it is rather fascinating, actually," Dumbledore mused, "but I digress. Severus sees minds and can enter and exit them effortlessly. He has possessed dozens of Voldemort's victims, including young Nymphadora..."—Remus and several others started—"because from that position he is able to spare children agony, to show Muggles where to hide, to attract the attention of the Aurors. However, Severus is encumbered by a limitation that does not apply to any other Legilimens I have ever encountered: he cannot fully enter someone's mind without their consent."

"But Albus," McGonagall protested, "why would he need permission if no one else does? Besides, he's only fifteen, not even that good a student—how could he possibly...?"

"That, Minerva, is a matter between Severus and myself." The finality in Dumbledore's voice convinced Remus that _that _particular subject was closed.

"So, if you are correct, Dumbledore, Sirius must have let him in willingly," James' dad said.

"He said he was my friend!" Sirius said, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa cushions. "He said that, and I didn't know who he was but I could tell he wasn't lying—"

"He was not lying," Dumbledore answered. "And as far as your friendship is concerned, I am sure you are familiar with the Muggle aphorism, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'?"

Sirius glared at the floor.

"And while we are on the subject..." Dumbledore paused a moment, his eyes drifting from Sirius to James to Moody. "I am curious to hear what terrible and dreadful calamity you three experienced today. Why, the circumstances under which you confronted Severus must have been utterly dire indeed, because if I recall correctly, I made it repeatedly and unmistakably clear that no one was to disturb him for any reason _whatsoever_. Though your behavior has resulted in chaos here and could very possibly cost Severus his life, I am sure you have an adequate explanation. I would like to hear it now, if you please."

Remus was suddenly very glad the Headmaster's frown was not directed at him.

* * *

Merlin it hurt. He was certainly no stranger to pain—_I'm a Death Eater, after all_—but this rivaled even his father's adventure that midsummer.

Severus had violated multiple rules of Death Eater conduct and the Dark Lord had notbeen happy.

_Thou shall not arrive late._

_Thou shall not arrive covered in green slime._

_Thou shall not arrive without the potions you were told to brew._

_Thou shall not arrive without a wand._

_Thou shall not melt books belonging to Lord Voldemort._

_And thou shall most certainly not give those muggle-loving imbeciles ANY reason whatsoever to suspect you are mine!_

After what Severus strongly suspected had been an eternity under the Cruciatus, the Dark Lord had given his minions leave to "teach the brat some responsibility." And the Dark Lord—_the bloody bastard_—revived him every time he managed to slip into sweet, sweet unconsciousness...

It was hard to breathe. The earth beneath him, sticky and red with blood, spun crazily sideways. He wanted to throw up but hadn't the strength. His body was shaking uncontrollably from the Cruciatus—every one of his bones was on fire; every pebble on the ground was a broadsword digging into his skin. With every curse he was descending into a new layer of hell. His father's were the worst, for no reason except his suspicion—_that maybe, somehow, a father isn't supposed to be like this..._

He could not stand, let alone walk. He was even too exhausted to think—the only thing he could do was scream.

So he did.

Minutes, hours, days later—he had no idea—the kicks and curses stopped. He was curled up like some horribly deformed fetus, dead before his time, black eyes clenched tightly shut so no tears could fall.

He heard the cracks and pops of Disapparation. He felt the Dark Lord cover him with an appearance-altering charm to prevent his 'discovery,' and then he was ordered to Disapparate as well. That did not sound like a brilliant idea—_I say the odds are a hundred to one I don't splinch myself—_but not obeying the Dark Lord was a much worse idea, so Severus spat the blood out of his mouth, gritted his teeth, muttered a brief prayer and Disapparated.

* * *

Remus dropped his glass back onto the table. _Merlin, I can't think, I can't concentrate—_it was two o'clock in the morning, six hours since Snape had disappeared and there was still no sign of him.

No one in the house was asleep. They were all waiting for the storm to end, the icy storm which had been hovering around the Headmaster ever since he'd given the most awful lecture to James and Sirius and especially Moody; Remus had felt ashamed just listening, despite the fact he'd had nothing to do with it. Moody had left headquarters right afterwards.

James sat on Remus' right, head buried in his hands. He'd only spoken twice since then, once to help explain to Peter what was happening—he'd been in the shower—and again to reassure his mum he was alright. But James wasn't alright, and neither was Sirius; they both respected Dumbledore and his words had obviously cut deep. All four boys were dealing with the situation the best way they knew—downing copious amounts of butterbeer and chocolate.

Remus fancied if he listened hard enough he could hear the Headmaster pacing the length of the library. He'd overheard a bit of the Order's conversation after they'd been kicked out but before James' mum put an Imperturbable Charm on the door: Dumbledore was worried that Snape would not be able to concoct a lie which would explain everything but still hide the fact that he'd been 'discovered.' He also worried about what would happen to Snape even if You-Know-Who was deceived—and if You-Know-Who was not deceived, how that would effect the Order...

Remus shivered; it was horribly obvious what would happen to Snape if the latter event occurred. _I would not be in his place for all the Galleons in the world._

His gloomy contemplation was disturbed by a loud _crack_ coming from the hall. All four boys started; after a moment curiosity overcame weariness and they ran through the doorway, just as the Order members emerged from the library...

It was Snape. He was strewn limply across the floor, unconscious and looking more pale and exhausted than ever, but otherwise unharmed. Remus let loose a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he was holding.

Dumbledore was instantly on his knees beside the unmoving figure, feeling his face gently as if to reassure himself Snape was truly there; he was speaking in a quiet murmur the whole time, but Remus couldn't make out the words. Then, to Remus' surprise, the Headmaster gently gathered Snape into his arms and returned to the library. The silent crowd followed him in and watched as he arranged his burden on the couch.

"Andromeda, Ted," Dumbledore spoke without looking away from Snape, his words ringing through the dusty air, "You have your latest potions?"

The Tonks couple—who had been summoned by the Headmaster hours ago—stepped forward.

"Of course, Albus," Andromeda began, "but you realize these are still in the process of being tested. They really shouldn't be used but for an emergency and frankly the kid doesn't look that badly injured..."

Dumbledore gestured towards Snape and said tonelessly, "_Finite Incantatem._"

Remus smelled the blood even before he saw it—a scent so thick on the air his tongue could practically taste it. James looked like he was going to be sick; Sirius actually clasped his hand over his mouth and ran back into the hallway. Snape no longer resembled a pale but peaceful corpse; now Remus could see bone protruding from his leg, see how his wrist and ankle and elbow bent in ways they were never designed to, see how he trembled uncontrollably, caught in his own internal earthquake.

Two seconds later Andromeda Tonks snapped out of her shock and took charge like the trained healer she was. "Ted, get a dose of 402 into him. Eleanor, I'll need some warm water and a towel to help get this blood off—the less magic we use on him the better. Fabian, get me my handbag from the drawing room. Does anyone have blood replenishing potion? Skele-Gro?" James' father nodded and set out for the supply room. "And Eleanor, get a blanket too; he's freezing." She turned to question the Headmaster, who was now sitting wearily on the couch, stroking Snape's greasy and blood-stained hair... "Do you know what he normally takes... for occurrences like this?"

"He has been drinking a triple overdose of your last anti-Cruciatus mixture for the past few weeks but has become almost completely tolerant towards it."

Andromeda pressed her lips together tightly. She returned her attention to Snape and started to mend his broken bones, working down from the major injuries to those less serious. "A fractured collarbone, six cracked ribs... What did they _do _to this child?"

Meanwhile her husband, a large man who was less talkative but just as efficient, had worked both potion 402 and the blood replenishing draught down Snape's throat, and was now performing what Remus guessed was a diagnosis spell.

"Andromeda, he's got a significant amount of internal damage from some curse, we'll need to find the counter... his white blood cell count is dangerously low and—good gracious, he's coming to...!"

Remus stared, transfixed, as Snape's fathomless black eyes fluttered open.

* * *

It still hurt, but not quite as badly as before; he had recovered enough to think, yes, and perhaps open his eyes...

"—good gracious, he's coming to...!"

He blinked against the bright lights; half a dozen silhouetted figures were staring at him and with a surge of panic Severus realized he didn't know where he was. _Did I splinch myself—did I make it back to Headquarters—this is too bright for the cellar—does Dumbledore know—_hands brushed his shoulder and he instinctively jerked back, his nerves screaming in excruciating protest; he reached for his wand but it wasn't there...

"Looking for this, Severus?"

He looked up and there was Dumbledore, Severus' wand in his hand and a twinkle in his eye. "Professor..." he sighed in relief, collapsing once more against the lumpy grey cushions and Dumbledore's shimmering blue robes.

He was too exhausted to protest when Dumbledore swept back his filthy hair and kissed his forehead gently. "Merlin, child, you had me terrified," he whispered. Severus swallowed hard against the tide of his emotions, closed his eyes and allowed Dumbledore's presence to comfort him.

"Albus..." began a woman's voice, her tone betraying some of the surprise and anxiety obvious in her sparkling vaporous mind, "...if I may continue?"

"Of course," Dumbledore answered. "Severus, this is the Order's resident healer, Andromeda Tonks. She's been patching you up."

Severus managed to produce a noncommittal "Hmmm" before returning to unconsciousness. He slipped back and forth between Dumbledore's arms and his nightmares a few more times, then another vial was at his mouth, and the frothy brew it contained warmed him from the inside out and pulled him into true alertness. He suddenly felt remarkably relaxed, warm and calm and content... _I want directions on how to brew this._

Dumbledore was talking again: "—have an apology to make." _What's this about?_ Severus was startled to see Potter and Black approach, looking unusually subdued. _What are they doing here?_

"Um, Snape? We're... uh, sorry we, um..." Potter paused for a long moment.

"Almost got you tortured to death?" Black interjected helpfully. Potter stared at his friend with such a horrified expression that Severus had to bite his lip to keep from smirking.

But it was odd. They were acting almost sincere. As if they actually regretted what they had done...

_Nah._

"Apology accepted," Severus said curtly. "I find your frankness refreshing, Black. It becomes terribly irritating—" his eyes flickered towards Dumbledore, "—when people continually side-step the issue."

"But," Potter continued, _obviously his stupid Gryffindor pride demands he bear his soul more completely, _"we really shouldn't have suspected you were a Death Eater—"

"Of course you should have. That's my job, idiot. How the hell am I supposed to fool the Dark Lord if I can't fool two naïve Gryffindors and a paranoid Auror?" He leaned back and watched their expressions flicker between relieved, offended, and dumbstruck. Finally they settled on staring at the Headmaster bewilderedly—but Dumbledore looked dumbfounded as well. Severus closed his eyes and settled back, inexplicably pleased with himself. _It's not every day I surprise the Headmaster._

* * *

Well, that explained a bit, didn't it? Just FYI, I'm still looking for a UK native to Brit-pick this, if any are so inclined... :)

Please review; I really appreciate constructive criticism.


	7. A Sheep and a Troll Would Have Been

DISCLAIMER: My income is _significantly_ less than it would be if I owned Harry Potter.

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to everyone who has ever gone out of their way to do something nice for someone else without expecting anything in return. Thank you.

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter VI:**

_**A Sheep and a Troll Would Have Been Preferable**_

The next few days were better. Much better, in fact. The Tonks couple kept him well supplied with anti-Cruciatus potion, Dumbledore somehow de-melted his desk and saved the majority of his notes, and he seemed to have established an uneasy truce with the Gryffindor gang.

He should have known it was too good to last.

The horror commenced very simply, when a trio of words hollered through the stair banister hit his ear:

"Sev-rus! Come here!"

"Why?" he retorted, not looking up from yet another futile attempt to produce the potion he'd decided to call Wolfsbane, should it ever be completed.

"Cause it's my birthday and I'm six and we're gonna have a party and you have to come see the cake which is pretty with pink candles and strawberries and frosting shaped like a kitty and it _moves_—"

Severus rolled his eyes but allowed her to drag him up the stairs and into the kitchen. _Besides, I like strawberries._ As they entered he was surprised to see the table already occupied by the Gryffindors... _and here I am, being pushed around by a five—six!—year old. _Severus swallowed hard and arranged his face into a cold mask—_it's bad enough that they saw me after the meeting, and now this?_

"Yay! Now we're all here and we're gonna have a party with cake and balloons and presents after dinner which is in _forever_ but now I'm getting ready so help me put the candles in." Nymphadora shoved something pink and waxy into Severus' hand. Eyebrow raised, he examined it from all angles while she ran around distributing candles to the Gryffindors. Potter and Black attempted to balance theirs upright on the tablecloth; Lupin took his cautiously with a quick glance at everyone else in the room—_good, he's surprised too; so they didn't put her up to it._ Pettigrew was eyeing the cake eagerly—perhaps a bit too eagerly—but then it did look delicious, despite the ridiculous pink frosting.

"Sit _down_, Sev-rus!" Severus cautiously slid into the solitary wooden chair between Lupin and Pettigrew. Lupin smiled faintly at him and Pettigrew had no attention to spare for anything but the cake.

"Okay now the candles go in on THREE! ONE!" Nymphadora jumped onto another chair, held her candle out a mere centimeter from the cake and glared until they extended theirs too. _She hasn't been this... energetic... since I gave her an overdose of extra-strength Calming Potion._

"TWO!" _She'd better not try to invite me to her party. This is embarrassing enough. _He hesitated. _Though the cake does look good..._

"THREE!" Severus jabbed his candle into the pink icing, piercing a frosted cat ear and creating a briefly satisfying _phlut_ sound. The others did the same. They stared at each other, hands almost touching, thinking unanimously—_now what?_

"GO!" The next few seconds must have decided to violate the laws of physics, because they passed so slowly Severus could have mistaken them for eons. He noticed suddenly, as if in a dream, that Nymphadora and Pettigrew were still holding their pink and white striped candles. He felt a sudden surge of magic hook his stomach and his eyes widened in dread. The others looked surprised, but not scared; they did not possess his instincts and justified paranoia. He saw Nymphadora smile a smile that was not her own, a smile so twisted he'd believed it could only ever appear on one face—a face dominated by the glowing red eyes of a mad genius whose name he never, ever spoke. _Merlin Almighty, she's under the Imperius Curse... the cake is a Portkey..._

Then time resumed its normal rate of progress and the kitchen of 402 Griffin Street dissolved in a howling whirl of color.

* * *

He slammed back into existence and had his wand half-drawn before—

"_Expelliarmus_," droned an ice-cold voice. Severus saw his wand leap from his grasp and then his vision was blocked by the ground, which was rushing up to meet him, assisted by the weights on his back. He hit the ground face-first and felt his nose start bleeding. The weights, which turned out to be hands and feet, started punching and kicking. He heard someone scream. Severus fought back as well as he could, which was pitifully; then the hands jerked him upright so quickly his neck snapped backwards.

And he was face-to-face with his father. His father, Garridan Snape, who looked more furious than he could have imagined. Severus, who had lived his life by the single principle, _Do Not Anger Garridan Snape_, since even before he could put the concept into words... was suddenly terrified.

"_You bloody fucking bastard,_" Garridan hissed."_CRUCIO!_"

Severus screamed. The agony was familiar, yet as raw and shrill and awful as ever. He was drowning in razor-sharp ice, choking and freezing to death as white-hot needles burned their way through his skin and tore through his eyes...

"STOP IT!"

It was clawing him apart from the inside, tearing and ripping and biting and shredding...

"STOP IT! FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, _STOP IT!_" Potter shouted.

"That will be enough, Garridan."

It stopped. Severus hung limp and trembling in his captors' arms. Greasy strands of hair hung between his face and the world like prison bars. _Too much, too soon—still not recovered from last time—what can I do—Gryffindors—they're here—still alive or are they—_

"Mr. Lupin... Mr. Black... Mr. Potter," hissed a voice smooth as bloodstained velvet. Severus forced his gaze upwards; the Gryffindors stared openmouthed at the Dark Lord, but despite their shaking knees they continued to struggle against the Death Eaters restraining them. Severus' general horror of all things Gryffindor diminished somewhat.

"Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black, Mr. Potter..." the Dark Lord repeated, but his eyes drifted to Severus. "And Severus, Severus..." He sighed theatrically. "You were so very promising. _Crucio._"

This time the curse lasted even longer and Severus couldn't begin to imagine what words could describe such pain. He heard voices—shouting, demanding, pleading—then they were screaming too, horrible screams that echoed through his ears and mind; his eyes rolled and he blacked out.

When he woke up—_Merlin knows how much later_—he was immediately conscious of the lack of restraints on his body. Considering the possibility of escape, Severus kept his eyes shut and glanced around with his mind... Minds of snitch and silk and chipped sapphire all lay on the floor next to him. _The air is stifling, so we're in a small room, probably a cell._ Outside he felt the foggy, mask-obscured minds of two Death Eaters.

A groan emitted from one of the Gryffindors on his right. Severus heard robes rustling and a key turn in a lock.

"Hello, everyone. Enjoying your stay?" The mocking voice tried to sound menacing but failed. It sounded oddly familiar...

Severus' eyes snapped open and he stared in shock. _It was Pettigrew. _Pettigrew, dressed in a Death Eater's robes. _Severus, you are a bloody fool. It was him the whole time... right under my nose..._

"P-Peter? Why... why—" Lupin was cut off by Black's shout:

"PETER! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

"What am _I _doing?" Pettigrew snarled, a glint of unreason in his eyes. "Don't tell me you didn't expect this! After all these years of pushing me around—"

"W-What are you talking about?" Potter managed to choke out.

"SEE? You never even suspected me! You think I'm too _stupid_ to do anything but blindly follow you around like a _sheep_—"

"No—what—we never—"

"Don't interrupt me, Remus! After all these years of being ignored, being insignificant, being simply _tolerated_ just because I'm the only other Gryffindor in your year—"

"PETER!" Potter shouted.

"SHUT UP!" he screamed, spit flying from his mouth. "It's always 'James this' and 'Sirius that' and 'Hey, Remus aced the test too'—you pay more attention to _Snivellus_ than to me!"

Severus narrowed his eyes as he watched the Gryffindors react—behind their anger and hurt, shock and fear he saw shame—_they can't be buying this, can they?_

"Why should they pay any attention to you? You've proved yourself to be little more than a double-crossing fool," he drawled, turning the traitor's attention onto himself.

"I'm no fool," Pettigrew snarled.

"Oh, I think you are. I don't know if you had a family or not, but you had friends who cared about you and a good place in the world—and you threw all this away to become a slave to the most evil person alive, who will torture or kill you the moment it becomes convenient? You _most certainly_ area fool."

Pettigrew gaped for a moment before continuing: "Well, Snape, unlike _you_, I am loyal to my Master and I will never be anything but an asset to his work! The Dark Lord has big plans for me; you know he needs a spy among the ranks of the muggle-lovers—"

"Dad and Dumbledore will have you arrested the moment you go back to headquarters," Potter spat. "You'll never learn anything from them!"

"Actually," Pettigrew grinned, "they didn't arrest me. Instead your mum gave me biscuits and let me cry on her shoulder and everyone repeated a thousand times how very sorrythey are for me—how very sorry they are for trusting Dumbledore and the, let me quote: 'evil dark bastard Snivellus who turned out to be a bloody Death Eater after all!'"

Severus stared at Pettigrew, mouth as agape as the Gryffindors'.

"You framed him," Potter accused.

"Yes, I did, and you wouldn't believe how easily they bought it. None of them really trust you, you know," he added, now staring directly at Severus. His voice took on a nastier tone as he continued: "Not even Dumbledore thought I was lying. You should have seen how quickly he realized his 'mistake'—he cursed the day you were born, did you know that? He said he couldn't believe he trusted you, especially considering your... _peculiar_ parentage. He hates you now; the Order members all have instructions to attack you on sight—dead or alive, they don't care how you're caught, and if you are, it'll be the Dementor's kiss for sure, _Snivellus_."

A minute previously Severus would have sworn that Pettigrew was incapable of uttering anything with the power to hurt him even slightly. Now he was proven wrong; the knowledge that Dumbledore—_the one person who cared_—hated him was like a dozen Bludgers slamming into his gut. Except worse.

He sat silently, feeling something akin to shock as the Gryffindors exchanged a few more words.

"But why, Peter?" Lupin asked quietly. "How could you help You-Know-Who?"

"And Nymphadora!" Black snarled. "What the hell did you do to her, I swear if you've—"

"I'll never forgive you for this," Potter said, staring Pettigrew in the eye. "_Never_."

"I did it because the Dark Lord _appreciates_ me, unlike you lot," Pettigrew spat. "The Tonks brat is Oblivated but intact—and James, I don't give a damn. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have far more important places to be."

The door clicked shut. Severus, still lost in miserable thought, was startled when Lupin slid across the floor towards him and asked:

"Snape? You okay?"

He blinked, noticed Pettigrew was gone, and slowly nodded in reply.

"We'll tell everybody it's not true when we get back," Potter said, voice full of obviously false confidence. No one answered. "Well, I... um, I guess we should—"

The door slammed open so hard Severus fully expected to see a troll on the other side. Unfortunately it was not a troll; it was his father, now looking not only more furious than Severus had ever seen him, but also more drunk, violent, and generally insane as well. Ignoring both his dignity and the Gryffindors, Severus crawled backwards into the corner farthest from the door, trying to put as much distance as possible between the wide-eyed, frothing madman and himself.

Garridan charged across the room and leapt at him, punching, biting, kicking—mind too far elsewhere to even remember magic. Severus threw his arms over his face and they were slashed by the man's fingernails.

"GET OFF HIM!" _Black? _

The Gryffindors had apparently recovered from their shock and rushed the man; now Severus was entangled in the midst of a full-out brawl. Garridan howled in pain as someone yanked his hair. He slammed Potter to the floor; the man was unused to fending off so many teenagers, but age and madness gave him strength. Severus tried to get away but Garridan's knee pinned his chest to the floor and his arm was locked in the man's vice-like grasp. Potter grabbed Garridan's other hand and Black tackled him from behind and—_THERE! Good Merlin it's in his pocket the bloody fool!—Portkey! Lupin, Lupin—hear me?_

_Wh—argh!—what?_

_Pocket! On his right—no!—other right—gold, see—Portkey it's a Portkey get it get it get it—_

"ARGHHHH!" He screamed in unison with Black as Garridan threw them both into the wall.

_THIS? _Lupin waved a small gold pendant in the air behind Garridan's head, dodged a punch and tripped spectacularly onto the floor.

_YES YES That's it get it get Potter NOW—_

Lupin dove across the room and landed on Severus's leg. Severus grabbed the pendant... "JAMES!" Lupin shouted frantically, restraining Black. Potter was behind Garridan, beside him... "JAMES!" Potter finally saw their frantic gesturing and dove across the floor just as Lupin had, but he landed a half-foot short. Severus saw a flash of recognition in his father's maniac eyes; the man knew what the Portkey was...

"PORTKEY!" Severus yelled, holding out the pendant. Lupin and Black grabbed it, Potter reached... three more inches—but Garridan was only three feet away...

They both lunged but Potter was faster. Severus screamed "ACTIVATE!" and the cell disappeared in another howl of whirling color, intermingled with the furious screams of the Death Eater they had bested.

Severus fell into a mud puddle and for a moment wondered if he was unconscious. Then he felt Lupin slide off his back and heard some graphic cursing, courtesy of Black. _Unconsciousness might have been preferable, actually._

A moment later his head slammed into something hard and Severus' wish was granted.

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Look, an actual cliffie. I'm terribly sorry it took me so long to get this posted; rest assured, the next chapter will be up sooner. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed. I really appreciate your observations, praise, constructive criticism, etc.

PREVIEW OF NEXT CHAPTER (warning, spoilers):

Severus wakes up somewhere. He talks to the Marauders. Stuff happens.

Sorry. I'm in a weird mood today. Happy Friday the thirteenth, everybody. Avoid bad luck by reviewing!


	8. Exchanging Secrets in the Middle of

DISCLAIMER: I think the fact that I have to state "I'm not JK Rowling" proves that our society needs a good dose of common sense. Seriously. I mean, this is right up there with the warning labels on mattresses and whatnot.

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to Jecir, because her last review cracked me up.

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter VII:**

_**Exchanging Secrets in the Middle of Nowhere**_

Severus regained consciousness slowly. There was water in his mouth, on his face; it felt deliciously cool against his skin. He swallowed greedily before opening his eyes. Lupin was kneeling over him, face concerned and hands dripping water.

"Lupin... what happened?" Severus tried to sit up but doing so unleashed a savage headache which convinced him was best to lie still on the moss. His head was on fire; maybe it had been used as a Bludger during Quidditch practice? The sun was too bright and the silence too loud.

"We got out of there and you hit your head on a rock when we landed. We tried to wake you up but couldn't... and honestly, Snape, you don't look good at all. So we let you sleep. Sirius and James finally found a stream, but it takes the better part of an hour to get there." Severus blinked in surprise—_an hour? Stream?_

"How long was I out? Where are we?"

"James thinks it's late afternoon—so today is tomorrow, if you're thinking from yesterday's perspective. It's been about a day since... you know. And I don't know where we are, except that it has trees. We were hoping you knew."

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking _you,_ would I?" he sneered. "Where are the others?"

"At the stream. We were going to sleep there tonight, assuming we're still here—think you can walk?"

Severus was doubtful, but he let Lupin pull him onto his feet. He swayed for a moment, still trembling from the Cruciatus and rubbing his arms where bruises had already started to form; eventually his headache diminished to an almost bearable level and he followed Lupin into the forest. They began a long, slow trek through the brush, following a trail of twigs someone had stuck upright in the ground. After an hour of walking—stopping often to rest—they reached their goal.

"Padfoot! Are you _trying_ to set the forest on fire?"

"I said I was sorry!"

Between the trees and the stream were Black, Potter, and one huge, raging inferno of a campfire.

"Sirius, you are hereby banished from messing with the fire. Go find something edible." For once Severus agreed with Potter—any more wood on that blaze and Black would have burned the forest to a crisp. Black turned around.

"Hey, Prongs—they're here!"

"Hi. I see you finally managed to get the fire going," Lupin said, sitting down beside the creek; Severus collapsed closer to the fire, appreciating the warmth.

"Yeah, well, it took us long enough. Um... feel better, Snape?" Black glanced at Severus before crouching beside Lupin, peering into the stream, a stick in his hand. Severus noted a large bruise on his face—_but then I don't look so nice myself, according to Lupin._

"Yes," he replied, then jumped as Black slammed the stick into the water, which flew into the air and splattered his robes. Black cursed and wiped his hands off on his sleeve. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to stab a fish. They're too quick—there's no way I'll get one, but it's the only way we can think of to have dinner. So we'll probably starve."

Potter snorted and threw a twig onto the inferno.

"Okay," Lupin began, "now that we're all here I think we need to talk about what we're going to do. Snape says he has no idea where we are—"

"But you knew it was a Portkey!" Potter interrupted.

"It's a permanent one—harder to make, but adjustable. You can set it to go multiple places, and I don't know what coordinates it was spelled for," Severus explained. "It was probably on a random setting, for security—so hopefully it'll be a few days before the Dark Lord finds us."

Potter snorted. "There's a cheerful thought."

"He uses it to collect rare potions ingredients," Severus continued. "If I see any I'll have some idea where we are, but all I can tell you now is that we're probably still in Europe somewhere."

"Well that narrows it down a lot," Black muttered. "_Very_ helpful—"

"More than you knew," Severus shot back.

"Can you reset it?" Lupin interrupted.

"Certainly, if you have a wand and can teach me the spell."

"Hey..." Black said suddenly, as if an idea was just coming to him, "you can Apparate!"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Brilliant observation, Black. How long did it take you to figure that one out?"

"Enough time for _you _to pop over to Headquarters and bring the Order back here!"

"First, Black, I'm not good at it," Severus said frankly. "There's reasons why you're not supposed to learn until you're of age. It's not as easy as it looks—you don't just start hopping around when you don't even know where you are. And second, the Order members have instructions to curse me on sight, remember?"

Black scowled and Severus sneered. They were all silent for a minute, thinking...

"If you don't mind me asking, Snape, that... man..." Potter grimaced at the memory, "he seemed to really have something against you. Do you know him, or is he just a nutter, or...?"

"Both. He drinks, and when he drinks he's completely, utterly, and totally mad." Severus paused for a moment and bit his lip, deciding how much to reveal. _No need to give them anything more to taunt me with, though we do seem to be on relatively civil terms, at least for the moment... Civil. Ha. Wonder how long that'll last. _"He's the Dark Lord's demon-raiser, and there are very good reasons why even most Dark wizards don't dabble in such magic. It's about as evil as you can get, and extremely dangerous. Usually someone who wants to control demons ends up being controlled _by_ them instead."

"So they took over his mind?" Black asked, intrigued.

"No. Despite appearances he's quite skilled; he's never lost control. It was more that he went too far, became too involved, was entangled so much in it that... I'm not sure, really. I suppose the remaining scraps of humanity in his mind rebelled and he went half-mad. Then he turned to Firewhisky and that just compounded his problems."

Lupin grimaced. "Makes you feel almost sorry for him—"

"_Don't_," Severus interrupted. The thought made him shiver; he pulled his legs up against his chest, wrapping his arms around himself. They were staring at him now.

"Don't... don't ever feel sorry for him. You don't know," he swallowed, "what he does. How he calls them up. It's the most awful, awful thing... No one with a shred of decency could stand to _watch_ something like that, let alone participate." Severus continued to shiver, eyes not focused on the present time and place.

Potter threw another twig on the fire and it popped, breaking the silence. "Um... sorry I asked. Let's just talk about something else, then. We're lost in the middle of nowhere with nothing but trees. If we assume no one's going to rescue us... what do we do?"

"I think we should make and inventory," Black said, turning out his pockets. "I have that ruddy birthday candle, a Chocolate Frog card, a sickle and two knuts."

Potter had five Dungbombs—"I was going to booby-trap the bathroom"—and a gum wrapper.

Lupin had another birthday candle, a keychain, two sweet wrappers, a half-eaten bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, a prefect badge—"Why didn't you tell us? We'll be able to get away with _everything_ next year!"—the now-useless portkey, some Transfiguration notes, a muggle rubber, four knuts, a broken quill, a half-written letter to his mother, and a piece of lint.

"Merlin, Remus—since when are you such a hoarder?" Sirius asked. Lupin shrugged and blushed.

Severus searched his own pockets, came up empty-handed and swore... until he checked the compartment hidden magically in the lining of his shirt.

"They missed an emergency stash," he explained, holding out the three vials of Exploding Fluid.

"Well, _that's_ encouraging," Potter muttered. "No wands, and not enough food for a ride on the Hogwarts Express."

"At least we have weapons," Severus said, returning the vials to his pocket. "Dungbombs are fairly potent, and Exploding Fluid can take down brick walls."

"Yeah, we're a ruddy walking arsenal. Now what?" Black demanded.

"Water always leads to civilization," Potter said. "We just follow the stream, downhill, until we reach a town or something."

"But that could take a week or so, or even longer." Lupin glanced up, looking anxious.

"So? It takes more than a week to starve to death, and we've got water." Black flicked a drop from his stick onto Lupin's robes.

"But Padfoot—we don't have a week. We have three days. Because in three days..." Lupin continued to stare skyward and the others' eyes widened.

"Merlin. I forgot. How are we..." Black paused, glancing at Severus. "Are you going to tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Severus asked, narrowing his eyes.

Lupin fidgeted, glancing at the others as if for guidance, but Black and Potter seemed at a loss.

"Er... I..."

"_Yes?_"

"I'm... er..."

Severus frowned. _Enough of this "er" nonsense. _"Lupin, you're talking to a supposed fugitive Death Eater who was just framed for three counts of kidnapping and attempted murder. If we survive and anyone questions us about this, you can deny everything and they'll believe your word over mine in a heartbeat. Just spit it out."

Lupin blinked, took a deep breath and spoke. "I... I'm a werewolf."

"Oh." Severus frowned again, faintly, then nodded. "That does explain quite a bit."

"You... you don't mind?" Relief and disbelief slid across Lupin's face.

"Why would I? It explains why the... the Headmaster..."—_don't think about him, Severus—_"asked me to research potions that could lessen the effects of lycanthropy. And why you would have notes on becoming Animagi."

"So you _did_ take them!" Black accused.

"Nymphadora gave them to me. Don't ask me why, I haven't the slightest idea why she does anything."

"We still have the same problem, though," Lupin said. "How are we going to keep me from attacking one of you?"

"How far have you gotten in your transformations?" Severus asked. "If you could manage it before then..."

"I could, maybe," said Potter, "but Padfoot is still on the step-by-step part—"

"I bet I could figure it out!" Black retorted.

"Would you risk your life on that, Padfoot? And what about you, Snape?" Potter turned to look at him. "There's no way anyone can pull an Animagus transformation off in three days, not even a Transfiguration master would try that."

"Does anyone have a better idea?" Black asked. "Is there really another option here?"

"It might be possible," Lupin agreed. "I mean, you'd certainly have the motivation, and lots of time to practice. It's not like we have anything better to do. And if you two both manage to transform, you could probably keep me away from Snape..."

"Brilliant plan," said Severus. "You attempt to become illegal Animagi in a ridiculously short period of time, and even if you do somehow succeed I still get eaten. I feel really safe now. You should sell insurance, Lupin."

"Well unless anyone has a _better _idea, I suggest we start practicing." Potter glared at Severus, who sneered and ignored the Gryffindors as they struck up a conversation amongst themselves. All four boys completely failed to notice a pair of malicious red eyes watching from the trees as they set their plan in motion.

* * *

Ha! See? I got the chapter out on time. Remember to hit the review button and tell us what you think.

-Scientist voice-: It's the only way we can learn.

Severus: -hits Sirius over the head and cancels the voice-change spell-

Remus: -sigh-

James: Want some of these chips? -Munch, munch-

**UPDATED: July 1, 2007 for three Britpicks: "make and inventory" instead of "compile inventory," "rubber" instead of "eraser," and "hoarder" instead of "packrat." Thanks whitehound!  
**


	9. What Happened at Two Thirty Three in the

DISCLAIMER: Hoggy warty Hogwarts- doesn't belong to me! Duh! -end song-

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to the Enchanted Paintbrush, a Harry Potter fanart website. Go Google it and check it out.

**

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter VIII:**

_**What Happened at Two Thirty-Three in the Bloody Morning**_

He sat upright suddenly, gasping and shaking and drenched in cold sweat. Severus swallowed hard and let his eyes adjust to the darkness as he surveyed their makeshift campsite; the others were still sleeping, fortunately. _So I didn't scream. Good. Who knows what's in these woods—_

And as if that very thought had alerted the creatures lurking behind the fog, Severus heard a sudden sharp _crack_. His hand flew for his wand before he remembered it was gone. _It's just a branch, it's just a branch_. Severus tried to relax, but now he fancied he could hear breathing—long, deep breaths, much fuller than a human's. _I'm probably just imagining things... _But what was that shadow behind the trees? As quietly as possible, he stood up and selected a stick from the pile of firewood.

The breathing was closer now, behind him; Severus turned, but there was nothing there. He crept forward, listening; now the breathing was faster, rapid—_or is that my own breath?_ He glanced around but the dull embers of yesterday's fire provided no light. Severus bit his lip and took a step backwards... right into something.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

Severus lashed out with his stick just as the thing began to attack. They tussled for a few seconds and the whatever-it-was had started whacking Severus with his own stick when he heard the others wake up.

"James? Snape?" Lupin shouted.

"What the hell—people are trying to sleep here!" Rough hands yanked Severus and his unseen adversary apart; he blinked... _Black? And that's... Potter? Oh. Oops._ "Can't you two finish this at a more decent hour?" Black demanded.

"Sorry," Potter mumbled, sounding as embarrassed as Severus felt. "I thought I heard something, and I thought Snape was it—"

"Me too," Severus added quickly. Black and Lupin continued to stare at them and he continued: "But it had deeper breath, and was cracking twigs—"

"Yeah! What do you think it was?"

"For Merlin's sake," Black cut in, looking disgusted, "it is two thirty-three in the bloody morning. Talk about it tomorrow, okay? I'm going back to—" Black stopped abruptly. His eyes and mouth suddenly expanded, and he pointed one trembling finger above their heads.

Severus turned, unsure what to expect. "_Oh... my..._"

"_RUN!_" someone screamed, and all four boys flew into the forest like a Quintaped was after them. Because it was.

Severus ran blindly, branches slapping his face and mud clinging to his trousers. The _thing_ was still following them; he could hear its five clubfeet slam into the ground at irregular intervals and sometimes it would produce a menacing growl that spurred his feet onward faster, faster...

Two minutes later his legs were burning and the growls were as close as ever—_where have the others gone?_ His sides were cramping, unused to such exercise, and his bruises ached with renewed vigor. Finally Severus remembered the Exploding Fluid in his pocket. He managed to pull a vial out of his fraying robes without tripping and flung it backwards at the monster... He missed. A tree exploded and Severus threw himself onto the ground, hands over his head; huge splinters and fragments of bark flew by, but the Quintaped appeared unfazed.

It towered over him, a giant shadowy form lit by the waxing moon's light. Severus pulled out another vial of potion and waited. _I'll only get one chance_. He wished frantically for the Gryffindors, they could aim properly. A clubfoot smashed through the decaying tree on his right; another crashed into the ground by his left. A huge, gaping mouth was right over him... The Quintaped growled again and Severus hurled the vial through the air, right for its head.

The enormous mouth snapped closed and Severus winced at the sound of a thousand teeth gashing together. _It ate it! It ATE it! I don't believe it_—

A long, thick tongue slid over the creature's lips; its crimson eyes gleamed in triumph and it raised a clubfoot, preparing to crush Severus' skull. Severus squeezed his eyes shut and hoped the end would come quickly. Instead, the world trembled as the Quintaped collapsed violently, sprawling across the ground. A clubfoot fell on Severus, pinning him down and knocking the air from his lungs. He felt the monster shudder violently; he heard hacking sounds coming from the giant mouth that hadn't eaten him yet... then it retched and puked all over him.

That was so disgusting Severus almost wished he'd been eaten instead. _Though it's not like I have a choice, either way._ He couldn't move beneath the massive weight half-crushing him; he couldn't cough away the noxious odor of the thing's vomit; he couldn't even shout for help—breathing was difficult enough. _WHERE are those I'm-so-bloody-noble-let-me-risk-my-hide-for-you Gryffindors? POTTER? BLACK? LUPIN?_ Severus' panicked mind searched frantically for any help, anyone...

_Snape? What—not the mind-control again! Where are you? What are you—_JAMES! LEFT, LEFT! OVER HERE!—_are you still alive?_

_No, I'm dead you prat! Where are you?_

_Don't know—James set off the Dungbombs and they left but I think they'll be back as soon as the smell wears off; we can outrun them but Merlin they're huge—_

_I noticed. There's one on top of me and it smells really, really bad..._

_What! And you're not dead?_

_We've established that. Get over here and get it off me. I can't breathe..._

_Yeah, I think I can follow your voice—so just as soon as we find Remus. Hey, you can find him with this legilo-psycho-mind thing, right?_

_Never tried two at once..._

_Then learn really quickly. Dungbombs only last a few hours and we have to get out of here before then._

Severus closed his eyes and tried to ignore both Black and the noxious odor of Quintaped vomit—_two minds at once, two at once... is that even possible?_ He spread his consciousness thinner than ever before, searching the woods for a gleaming blue gemstone, chipped from what he deduced was Lupin's lycanthropy. _Lupin? Lupin...?_ His mind felt faint from lack of oxygen.

_Snape—you're alive!_

_Obviously. Get over here and help them get the Quintaped off me. _

_James and Sirius are okay?_

_They're fine. But hurry up; I am being crushed to death and my mind is being pulled apart and it hurts._

A few minutes later—though it felt like far longer—Severus heard someone approaching. He pulled away from the Gryffindors' minds and tried to sigh in relief, but managed only another desperate gasp for air. It was getting harder and harder to breathe...

"You two _stink_," Lupin remarked.

"Yep, but the Quintapeds don't like the smell either—_Eewww,_ whatever's up there is even worse. Is that the one he was talking about? _Snape?_" Black called.

Severus had no breath to respond.

"Snape? Come on, guys, he has to be around here somewhere!" Potter's voice grew louder as he approached. "Merlin, it's huge—how'd he knock it out?"

"The Exploding Fluid, remember?" Lupin answered.

"This is _disgusting_—what is it, Quintaped puke? What'd he do, force-feed it the potion? Yuck, it's all over my _shoes_..."

"Padfoot, shut—"

"GUYS! Guys, get over here, quick!" Severus winced; Lupin was shouting right in his ear. "Snape, are you conscious? _Snape?_ Merlin, he's white as a sheet—"

"Isn't he usually?"

"_Sirius!_" Something urgent in Lupin's tone silenced Black, and Severus heard two sharp intakes of breath as the other Gryffindors approached. _I must... really... not look so... good then..._ His mind was growing choked, foggy, clouded... A pair of hands grasped his arms and he heard trainers squelching in the muddy vomit.

"On three," Potter commanded. "One, two, three!"

The pressure lifted slowly, gingerly; he was yanked roughly across the ground and heard a _smack_ as Potter and Black dropped the clubfoot back into the mud before collapsing themselves, shaking their strained arms. Lupin was gripping his shoulders and saying something... something... _what...?_ But Severus could _breathe_ and it was the most wonderful sensation ever, despite the sharp, stabbing pain that cut through his ribs with every breath. _Oxygen. I love Oxygen._

"Snape? _Snape?_" Lupin continued to demand.

"Tha's my name," he mumbled.

"Come on, we've got to get out of here." Lupin pulled him up to a sitting position and Severus hissed in pain. His headache had returned with a vengeance and his ribs were like knives in his chest—everything else just felt like he'd lost a fight with the Hogwarts Express. Or his father. _Not sure which would be worse._

"This is not going to work," Lupin stated. "Sirius, you're going to have to carry him."

Severus' eyes snapped open and he stared at Lupin in shock. Black's jaw dropped once more; he blinked and started babbling incoherent protests. Severus tried to denounce the idea as preposterous but only managed to choke out: "D-Don't be ri-ridic..."

"I'm not being ridiculous. You're thin as a quill, Snape; I bet Sirius can carry you easily. And don't try to convince me for a second you're capable of walking. You look like you have some cracked ribs and you were hurt enough to begin with—they had you under the Cruciatus longer than the rest of us put together."

"But I... I'm used to—"

"No you're not!" Potter glared at him, looking unexpectedly angry. "I don't think anybody could _ever_ get used to that curse; and I'm ruddy sure you aren't! You look almost as bad now as you did that night—Merlin, I still can't believe we did that..."

"I _told_ you," Severus began, but Potter cut him off:

"Merlin, Snape! We almost got you _killed!_ Can't you get that thought through that thick skull of yours? How can you not care about that?"

"S-Stop shouting or... or they'll hear y-you." Severus coughed then shuddered as his ribs protested. _Lupin's right_, he conceded reluctantly,_ they're cracked or broken or something..._

"Well I don't care. I'll carry you myself—"

"No, you're right, Remus; I'll do it. We've got to get out of here." Black stood up, scowling at his now-filthy robes. "Just one more thing I never thought I'd use Beater muscles for..."

As Black approached Severus couldn't help but swallow nervously—_I'm trusting a bone-headed Gryffindor with my safety while on an island inhabited by Quintapeds?—_but to Black's credit, he did a good job pretending he didn't notice Severus' fear. Black simply scooped him off the ground as easily as he lifted Nymphadora and turned to the others. "Where to?"

"Anyone remember where the stream is?" Potter asked. While the others replied negatively Severus shifted slightly in Black's arms and closed his eyes; he was absolutely exhausted and being carried by a _Gryffindor, by Black—of all people! Just useless dead weight_... _and why does everything have to smell like Quintaped vomit?_

"Since we're obviously on the Isle of Drear," he murmured, "what with Quintapeds and all, we want to head south, towards the mainland, and if you find the stream again walk in it a bit, it might make us harder to track."

"We can figure it out as we go. Let's just get out of here before the big guy wakes up." Potter pointed towards what might have been south and they squelched out of the mud and deeper into the forest.

"At least now we know where we are..."

"Shut _up_, Padfoot."

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Ok, if you haven't read _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ you probably have no idea what a Quintaped is. It's a five-legged man-eating thing you don't wanna mess with. For a better definition go check out the HP Lexicon, and for the best definition, buy the book! It's for a good cause!

And thank you so much for my Preciousss Reviewsees! You guys really brightened my day, which I need, cause I'm sick. -insert cough here- So, review, or I'll sic my Quintapeds on you.

Quintapeds: -growl-

**UPDATED: July 1, 2007, for Britpick: trainers, not sneakers. Thanks whitehound!**


	10. There Are Some Things You Can't Share

DISCLAIMER: An analogy. Ahem: I own Harry Potter the same way the Ninja Turtles own Australia's skiing industry. Does that clear things up?

DEDICATION: I think I'll dedicate this chapter to Deviant Art because I've been having a lot of fun there lately. Check out my page if you want HP-fan art. Woo-hoo!**

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter IX:**

"**_There Are Some Things You Can't Share Without Ending Up Liking Each Other"_**

–_**J.K. Rowling**_

"Okay, so the Quintapeds are probably tracking us by smell, which explains why they didn't follow us after we set off the Dungbombs. We can outrun them but nothing kills them, even Exploding Fluid; they're just allergic to it. They look like giant reddish-brown hairy blobs with too many legs and they smell awful. What else do we know?" Potter asked.

"They want to eat us?"

"Thank you, Black, for that cheerful and oh-so-helpful reminder."

"Shut it or I'll drop you." Severus rolled his eyes; Black scowled but didn't follow through on his threat. The conversation paused temporarily as they navigated around a patch of nettles.

"Actually, Padfoot has a point," Potter continued. "Remember that assignment I did for old Kettleburn? Quintapeds like to eat people more than anything else. So, that's another reason we really need to figure out this Animagi thing. Then they won't bother us."

"James," Lupin sighed, "I just don't know if it's going to work."

"Moony, you're the one who—"

"I know what I said, Padfoot, but let's face it. You've already been working on this for _years_, you've been practicing all summer—what makes you think you can just figure it all out in two days? And how are you supposed to concentrate with those _things_ following us around?"

The Gryffindors traipsed along steadily, still rowing—_more out of boredom than anything,_ Severus thought. It was about midday and, as there had been no more Quintaped attacks, the hours had lapsed into mind-numbing routine: _walk, practice Animagi transformations, walk a bit more, practice a bit more, walk, practice, walk, practice... or at least they're walking._

Severus—despite his protests and ample application of some pain-numbing plants he'd picked during one of their rest breaks—was still being toted around like luggage. Not even Black had agreed to, as he'd put it: "Let you go limping along until you kneel over dead and then get eaten. That's assisted suicide. Do you know what Dumbledore would _do_ to us?"

At these words the miserable feeling Pettigrew had planted in him had reemerged, threatening to strangle Severus completely. Worse, eerily perceptive Lupin had noticed, and he'd had to endure a solid quarter-hour of reassurance that they intended to tell the Headmaster the truth, prevent the Order from sending him to Azkaban, and do all manner of unpleasant things to Wormtail—whether he was under the Imperius Curse, as Lupin hoped, or the ungrateful, power-hungry traitor Potter and Black denounced. Privately, Severus suspected he was simply a spineless rat who, like so many others, had been swayed by a touch of torture and a promise of power... _And now he deludes himself, imagining it was his idea to begin with._

Lupin's voice jerked him out of his thoughts. "Want another bean?"

Severus sneered but accepted the sweet. He was hungry; they all were. He watched as Lupin balled up the wrapper and shoved it back into his robes. _So it's not another bean, it's the last bean. _He eyed the sugary confection critically; it was a bright, cheerful red. _Probably blood. Or Gryffindor common room carpet._

It was strawberry.

_Ruddy Gryffindors and their ruddy... ruddy... friendliness._ Severus examined that thought a minute; there was definitely a problem in there somewhere. He stored it away for later consideration.

The others were still debating the probability of managing the transformation in what was now little more than forty-eight hours. Severus tried to ignore them—_I'm supposed to still be mad they aren't letting me walk_—and failed. _Because I quite agree with Lupin. Even if somehow, miraculously, Black and Potter manage the transformation, I have no chance whatsoever._ Severus frowned at his hands. He was having terrible trouble with the concept, despite having read the Marauders' notes and attempted the change a few times—futilely—in the privacy of his cellar. _Merlin, how long ago that seems._

Transfiguration was his worst subject, and though he admitted—privately and grudgingly—that the Gryffindors could be decent tutors when they tried, they often lost patience with each other. He had managed grey fur on the back of his hand, a tingly feeling in his shoulders, and that was it. _Brilliant. Stage one completed; only five hundred more to go. _

It didn't help that he had no idea what sort of animal he was becoming. The Marauders had taken hair samples from each other and asked Hagrid to identify them, so they'd known by this time. He had no such luxury.

Severus glared at Potter's back. Potter was so _good_ at Transfiguration. He probably couldn't imagine what it would be like not to be good at it... or not to be good at Quidditch... or not to be devastatingly handsome and oh-so-popular...

He glanced at his hands again and his glare turned into a grimace; he was still covered with the foul-smelling vomit of those _things_. He'd tried to wipe it off onto his robes, but the stuff was as adhesive as Magi-glue. _I wonder if anyone's ever tried using this in a potion? Probably not... but Quintapeds are magical creatures, after all; it could very well have some interesting properties. Though no one sane would volunteer to collect it_.

"Oy! Guys—look at this!" Potter shouted. Severus glanced up curiously as Black strode forward.

They'd rediscovered the stream. Ahead the ground ended abruptly, but the water continued flowing, falling over the edge into a pool several feet below. The pond itself could have been from a postcard picture—it looked cool and clear and inviting. Potter and Lupin had already jumped down and were approaching the water...

"Prongs!" Black called. "Catch?" Potter turned back and held his arms out, smirking. Severus' eyes widened in disbelief and he clawed at Black's robes frantically.

"Don't you _dare_ drop me you—"

Black slid to the ground and snorted. "Hey—I was kidding." He leaned over the embankment's edge and Severus fell about half an inch before Potter caught him. They were being careful but he still couldn't quite contain a short gasp of pain.

"Snape? Are you—"

"Mm'm fine," he muttered.

"I don't believe you," Potter said as Black jumped down. "I bet you'd say you were fine after being half-digested by a Quintaped."

"Don't bring up Quintaped stomach acid. It's bad enough that it's _all over _me—"

"Sure, Black," Severus drawled. "At least it's not in your hair."

"Since when has your hair ever been anything less than disgusting?"

"Since when have you ever been anything but a self-absorbed git?"

"Since—"

"If you lot are done with the one-upping let's try to get some of this gunk off," Potter interrupted. "It's certainly hot enough for swimming." He lowered Severus to the grassy bank beside Lupin, who'd already unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a nasty cut on his shoulder.

"Remus!" Potter exclaimed. "Where'd you get that? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Last night, when we were being chased. And I can't exactly go see Madame Pomfrey, so there's nothing..." Lupin stopped when he felt long fingers on his arm. Severus rotated the limb slowly, examining the wound for about half a minute.

"It's going to get infected if you just leave it," he said bluntly. "It needs treatment now or it'll get worse."

"Um... how exactly do you plan on fixing that?" Black asked, pulling his own shirt off.

"The same way I'm going to heal my ribs—with the foxglove and knotgrass over there, and a few other things you're going to procure for me."

"I agreed to this?"

"Yes. You were very gracious about it, too. Now, Black, do you know what a caterpillar looks like? Ca-ter-pill-ar?"

* * *

Twenty minutes later Severus was smashing between two rocks an ample supply of something that looked, according to Black: "Like green regurgitated oatmeal, except more disgusting." Most of the ingredients for a simple cure-all—which should heal the bruises, cuts and hopefully his ribs—had been easy to find, now that they were by the stream. _Only the caterpillars left. No, here's Lupin with a handful— occasionally werewolf senses are an asset._

"Black?" Severus called.

"For the hundredth time, YESI'm sure I know what a caterpillar looks like—they're just hiding!"

"It's okay. You don't have to confess your Entomophobia; Lupin's found some." Severus took the caterpillars and squished them into the mix. Lupin collapsed beside him, obviously worn out. He heard Black and Potter crashing towards them through the underbrush.

"I'm not... Antomaphobic, or whatever. I just couldn't find—_eew,_ Snape, that stuff is disgusting."

"Now you're scared of medicine?"

"That's not medicine; that's just gross." Potter nodded in agreement.

Severus shrugged and scraped the gooey mass together with Black's chocolate frog card; the unfortunate wizard displayed on it had long since fled the picture. He eyed the improvised mixture critically—_nowhere near my usual standard, of course, but it'll do._ Three quick swipes of the card divided the goop into thirds, then one of the thirds into sixths.

After he managed to convince Black and Potter they needed some too, for the bruises, it was almost a relief to down the foul-tasting mixture—and even more of a relief when the relentless aching of his ribs finally ceased. Severus sighed contently and fell backwards against the grass. Reassured by the fact he was still alive, the Marauders followed suit.

"That's much better," Lupin said. The others murmured their agreement.

"Yes," Severus answered. "It's good to know it worked."

"Wait. You—you didn't know if it would...?" Potter stammered.

"Eighty-four percent sure it would work, nine percent sure it would make us puke, six percent sure it wouldn't do anything and one percent sure it'd be lethal poison."

"We could've _died?_" Black exclaimed. Severus rolled his eyes. "But... but it did work, right? We're better? Moony's better? You're better?" Severus nodded. "Good. Cause I'm going to _kill you!_" Before Severus could react Black tackled him; then he was flying through the air... over the water...

_SPLASH._

"AHHH! C-c-c-cold!" Severus coughed a few times, trying to catch his breath and shivering in the icy water. "B-B-Black, you b-bastard!"

"Oh, you would've had to get in anyway. Get the Quintaped puke off you."

"You're f-fairly vomit-encrusted yourself, B-Black. Why don't you throw yourself in—then I can watch you three drown each other from here."

"Who said we were going to drown anybo—_AHHH!_"

"Watch out for Prongs, Padfoot!" Lupin called belatedly. Black emerged from the pool, sputtering and coughing and declaring that he'd get revenge; a minute later the other two Gryffindors were in the water and he was making good his threat.

Severus floated by, luxuriating in his no-longer-covered-in-Quintaped-vomit existence and ignoring both his inaptitude for swimming and the Gryffindors—until Potter dunked him.

The consequences of that eventually evolved into an informal splash war: Severus and Black against Potter and Lupin. Severus got dunked more times than he could count, but managed to get Lupin several times and even Potter once, despite being about half his size. After discussing tactics with Black he dove underwater again, ready for an ambush... when he saw the fish.

It was a monster—big enough to feed half of Hogwarts, let alone four teenagers. It was hiding near the bottom, not darting away like the tiny specimens that were everywhere. _Just a bit closer... closer... _Severus reached out as fast as he could and wonder of wonders managed to catch it, holding the thrashing beast tight between his arms and chest. He kicked for the surface... broke through...

"HELP! FISH—"

Before Severus could take another breath he was forced back into the water; the fish was fighting hard and its scales seemed razor sharp against his fingers. Then Black was there with a stick, whacking it on the head. The fish went limp and so did Severus. He dropped it, struggling for the surface... _Can't find air need air where air fish gone Black surface air where air air air_—someone pulled him sideways and he emerged, sputtering and coughing, into the world above the pool.

"Snape? Snape? Say something!" Someone was slapping his face. He blinked and Black slid into focus.

He coughed again. "B-Black?"

"That's good enough. Can you get to shore? Snape? _Snape?_ Merlin!" Potter and Lupin appeared from beneath the water just as Black swore.

"Padfoot? What happened?"

"Snape caught a fish and almost drowned himself. Get him out of the water and I'll get the fish." Black took a deep breath and dove.

Severus, still somewhat in shock, let Potter drag him through the water to the bank. Lupin draped a robe around his shoulders and wrapped some of the fabric around his hands, squeezing them to help stop the bleeding. He coughed again; someone thumped his back and he flinched before realizing it was Potter.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks," Severus mumbled; now that he wasn't panicking the whole situation seemed far more embarrassing.

"Don't thank me—you caught the fish. Finally! Something to _eat_!" Potter's giddiness concerning this last point was contagious; Severus smiled in spite of himself. They hadn't had a bite to eat in two days—Lupin's sweets hardly counted as actual nourishment._ Even fried Hippogriff would taste good right now._

"Gentlemen, I give you—the FISH!" Black emerged from the pond, trailing water and glory as he held their prize high above his head. He dropped it onto a convenient rock while Potter applauded. They all stared at it for a minute. The glazed eyes did not stare back; it was definitely dead.

"So... um, now what do we do with it?"

"We eat it, Padfoot," Lupin explained in a long-suffering tone.

"Raw?"

"No, you prat! We have to cook it first and... er, skin it, I guess..." Potter appeared rather queasy about that point. "I vote Padfoot does the skinning. I have to build another fire."

"Hey! Why do _I_ have to cut it up? I dove down and got it. Moony, you skin it!"

"Me?" Lupin's grip on his fingers suddenly tightened. "I don't know how to skin a fish! And that's... well, gross!"

"For Merlin's sake!" Severus pulled his hands from Lupin's grasp and shook them out. "I'll do it. You'd think none of you had ever dissected something before."

"Er... I haven't," Black shrugged, wringing out his hair.

"Really? What do you _do_ in Potions?" Black grinned wickedly and he added, "Wait—don't answer that; I don't want to know. Well, since you aren't allowed near the fire, Black, could you find me a sharp rock? And let me borrow that stick of yours."

"Of course, mighty omnipotent master of the fearsome fishes in the great pool of horror and dooooom..." Black presented the stick with a flourish and Severus frowned as he took it.

"Was that sarcasm, taunting or simply more random idiocy?"

"You found food. I worship the ground you walk on! All hail—"

"Sure. Just go get me a rock."

Fifteen minutes later Potter and Lupin, by sacrificing the latter's Transfiguration notes to the cause, had a tiny fire blazing—tiny, in case the smoke attracted more Quintapeds. Black was practicing his Animagus form; he'd found a reasonably sharp rock and watched Severus use it for about twenty seconds before turning green and deciding that he'd enjoy eating the fish more if he didn't know what it actually looked like.

The fish itself—or 'the Monster,' as Black had begun calling it—was ready to be cooked. Severus laid the edible parts out on a branch positioned above the fire, supported by two more rocks. Then the foursome fell back onto the ground, labors completed.

"Severus, you're the official fish expert. How do we tell when it's done?" Potter asked.

_Did he just call me Severus? Since when are we on first-name terms?_ He thought over the events of the past few days. _Well. I suppose we might be, after all. Who'd have guessed? _Severus was startled to discover that, somehow, the thought didn't horrify him quite as he would have imagined.

"When it turns black and crispy and little flames shoot out of it."

"Please tell me you're kidding—"

"I'm kidding, Remus." Lupin—_Remus—_blinked in surprise before grinning at him.

* * *

The fish was excellent. Severus wasn't a big fan of seafood, but after so long without a meal anything would have been delicious—though the fish had seemed a lot bigger before he'd sliced it into fourths. Still, it was enough to satisfy his grumbling stomach. _And it's not like I haven't gone a few days without food before._

Tired, soggy and feeling heavy with fish, he laid on the ground with the Marauders, watching the clouds go by.

"There's a duck, a broomstick... the Sorting Hat..."

"Hey, Padfoot—that one looks like a banshee!"

"No, it's too ugly... it must be my mum!" The Gryffindors burst out laughing; Sirius was obviously not on good terms with his mother.

"So you don't get on well with your mum?" Severus ventured.

"Never! The old hag drives me nuts—same as my dad. They're both loony pureblood fanatics; I swear one day they're going to pack up and go join You-Know-Who himself—no offense—and I can't stand their nagging. They're all like," here he adopted a high-pitched tone, imitating his mother, "_Be more dignified, Sirius! Don't associate with mudbloods, Sirius! Why can't you be more like your little snot-nosed git of a brother, Sirius?_"

James snorted. "He _is_ a bit snot-nosed, isn't he?"

"Definitely. I hate his guts too; he's as mad as the rest of them. If we're still stuck here when school starts I doubt he'll notice I'm gone, and if he does he'll write straight to Mum and Dad, you'll see, and he'll blame this whole thing on me. They'll believe him, too—probably lecture me for three straight hours about how undignified we're all being."

Severus realized the Blacks had a point. They were all lying around half-dressed, waiting for the sun to dry their hair... _But then it's not as if there's anyone around to impress._

"Don't know what _I'd_ do if I had a family like that. You make me feel lucky, Padfoot." Remus sighed. "My mum is probably worried sick; you know she can be overprotective sometimes. She never talks about it but I think she feels responsible, somehow... for, you know." He bit his lip. "I miss her. Dad too." Glancing around, he added quickly, "Maybe that sounds sort of thick but—"

"It doesn't," Severus and James said at the same time. _I know I miss Dumbledore—and I would kill to have a family to miss._ After staring at the sky a bit longer James suggested they continue work on the Animagi transformations.

_To think I'd almost forgotten. Forty-eight hours and counting..._

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Oy! The chapter has ended.

Now is the time for all good readers to come to the aid of their author. What's good? What's bad? What's huggable? What's smelly? How much wood can three animagi woodchucks chuck in one square hour? Please tell me:)


	11. The Most Interesting and Peculiar

DISCLAIMER:

Severus: I'm huggable? o.O

Sirius: No, you're smelly.

James: I'm good! I'm the best! Woo-hoo!

Remus: -sigh-

Author: Ahem.

Sirius: Oh, yeah. All together now...

"We belong to JK Rowling!"

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to... -pause for suspense- iced Welsh's Orange Pineapple Apple juice, which I am consuming vast amounts of while hacking my lungs out. Bleh. I hate being sick. But that means I'm home from school and bored and therefore giving you this chapter a day early... so that's good? I dunno. This chapter is also dedicated to everyone who has reviewed because ya'll cheered me up last night. And to the radio station. And to electric blankets. And to rambling...

Severus: Would you just get on with the chapter already?

Sorry.

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It Falls to the Young Chapter X:

**_The Most Interesting and Peculiar Properties of Quintaped Puke_**

The sun slid over the horizon gingerly, as if scared it would wake the morning dew and get a telling off from the moon. The moon itself was still visible, and already indistinguishable from a perfect sphere, at least to Severus' eyes. _It's morning. The moon should be hidden..._ He wondered if it was taunting them. _On this side of last night tomorrow looks a lot closer._

Remus looked awful. He was sleeping as if under the Draught of Living Death and Severus doubted anything less than another Quintaped attack would wake him up. Fortunately he'd had no occasion to test this hypothesis; the night had been uncomfortable but uneventful, perhaps because they'd taken it in turns to stand watch.

Technically this was Remus' shift, but Severus hadn't had any desire to wake him. The werewolf was obviously exhausted; the darkness under his eyes testified to that—_besides, I didn't spend yesterday morning walking halfway across the world._ Instead, he'd decided to get in a little extra Transfiguration practice.

Severus stared at his hand, trying to focus on changing it into whatever it was supposed to become, but after another half-dozen failed attempts he was discouraged. _Can't even get the fur I had yesterday._ _One more try, then I'll wait until the others wake up._ He frowned in concentration once more, putting from his mind all thoughts concerning getting eaten by a snarling werewolf and a giant Quintaped. _Change, damn you! Just change!_ He glared at his hand, pulling on its magic as hard as he could, trying to shape it into a new form.

At that moment a most peculiar and interesting event occurred, an event which would later be described with such phrases as "Merlin's Beard" and "How the hell did that happen?"

Severus _felt_ it, in his magic. It was something new, something that hadn't been there yesterday; yet it seemed so natural, so obvious... He blinked, and tugged on the magic again. _Hand. Change._

And he felt the change... but it was by no means as fluid as the notes had implied. He felt every bone in his hand grind together and the muscles shift and reshape themselves and his skinshrivel up and reincarnate as a taunt sea of soft grey fur that settled over him and rippled as he wiggled his fingers experimentally—his fingers, which crunched and shortened and folded into themselves while his nails arched outwards, longer and sharper...

Severus stared. He flexed his fingers—paw—experimentally; muscles he hadn't even known existed activated and five silver claws shot out towards him. A smile spread across his face. _Absolutely wicked. Wait—how did I just do that? It's not possible. I'm not—the magic! It was whatever was in my magic._

He frowned and started thinking of all the things that could have caused such a reaction. _Obviously the potion is a primary suspect, but those were such common, ordinary ingredients—surely someone else would have discovered this already? It has to be something else..._ _something obscure... something potentially powerful... _

A moment later it clicked.

"Wake up, you lot! WAKE UP! _We're not going to die!_" Severus laughed from the sheer euphoria of discovery. "WAKE UP!"

"Severus? Are... you okay? Why are you—Severus? What happened?" James asked. The Gryffindors had snapped out of drowsiness unusually quickly and were now staring at him as if he'd gone mad. Severus waved his paw in the air and they blinked.

"Uh, congratulations on getting it that far—but did you really have to wake us all up?" Sirius moaned.

"No—it's not that! It's in my magic, so it must be in yours too, because you were all there and we all got covered in it and I think the vomit's got some sort of potential-magic property—like unicorn or dragon blood and phoenix tears—but this stuff enhances your magic's power. _See?_"

The Gryffindors blinked. "Uh, Severus?" said James.

"Yes?"

"None of us have any idea what you just said."

Severus sighed. _Do I have to spell it out completely? Well, they _are_ Gryffindors..._ "Something we did yesterday—I think it was exposure to the Quintaped vomit on our skin, and maybe a bit mixed in the potion—did something to my magic, so it should have affected yours, too. It makes the Animagus transformation easier!"

They understood _that_, and two minutes later Remus was laughing at the antics of the stag and dog prancing through the trees. "I can't believe no one's discovered this before!" he exclaimed. "This is unreal!" Sirius ran by, barking wildly, reveling in the freedom of four legs.

"They wouldn't have made Drear Unplottable if they'd known," Severus answered. "Do you know—do you have any idea what this discovery could do? What it's worth? With some experimentation it could enhance practically every spell known to wizardkind..."

James turned back into himself, a huge smile plastered on his face. "That was AWESOME! We're gonna be rich! We can buy the island and sell Quintaped vomit—"

"Prongs, you're already rich," Remus laughed.

"Yeah, but we're talking millionaire-ism! For all of us! Okay, Severus, you try it now!" Sirius barked his agreement.

"I've never—"

"Just try! Why not?" James and Sirius were literally bouncing with enthusiasm; Sirius actually jumped onto Remus' lap and drooled in dog-ecstasy when Remus scratched his ears. James pulled him back onto the ground where they waited impatiently for Severus to try the spell.

Half a minute later, Severus was still mostly human, but quite obviously also something else. He examined himself closely, thankful he was still capable of unimpaired speech despite his oddly rough tongue. The most noticeable changes were to his other hand and his feet, which had made similar conversions into paws—_I wonder where my shoes went_—and the itch on his back was now far more irritating...

"Merlin," James gasped. "It took us over a _year_ to get that far along. This stuff is phenomenal."

"Any idea what I am?" Severus asked, experimenting with his new-found claws.

"At the moment?" James laughed. "Odd, mutant, and disturbing all come to mind—"

"It's really encouraging for a first try, though," said Remus.

"Yeah, I bet if you—what is it, Padfoot?" Sirius had dropped his ecstatic-dog act and was now whining miserably, scratching at James's leg. "For Merlin's sake, change back. I can't understand a word you're saying." Sirius growled and barked at James.

"Merlin..."

"What, Remus?" James demanded.

"What if—this is just an idea, but what if he can't change back? How do we know the Quintaped puke-magic is permanent? What if it only does so much, and then you have to use your own power to change back?"

"_I_ changed back—"

"But you've always been the best one at transfiguration, James. Sirius and Severus aren't as good at it, so without the extra magic they're stuck. Hypothetically, of course," Remus added, looking at Severus.

"Well, we won't know until we try." Severus closed his eyes and concentrated on returning to his usual form, hoping Remus wasn't right. A few minutes later he still had paws and Sirius was still a quadruped.

"Bugger," James sighed. "So much for becoming multi-millionaires and ruling the world."

"At least _you_ still have feet," Severus snapped.

"Wait—so does this mean I can't do it anymore either?" James disproved his theory quickly by changing into a stag and back. "So why can I change when you can't?"

"Probably because you managed to change back on your own," Remus speculated. "You just needed the push to transform in the first place, but now you know how to do it, and can control it properly... So that's good then!" he said suddenly, turning to Sirius and Severus. "That's still really good, because as soon as you two finish the transformation, you'll be Animagi. And since you're not in your natural forms anymore, it should be easier to change back, and hopefully a lot quicker than learning to transform _from_ your human form."

Severus frowned, digesting this information. "But until then..."

"You could hire yourself out for muggle horror films," James suggested. "The Evil Mutant Dr. Claw in the Haunted Forest of Doom!" Sirius let out a laugh-like bark and Severus glared at him.

"I suppose we ought to keep walking," Remus said. "And Severus and Sirius can—"

"—just keep trying throughout the day," Severus finished. Now that his initial exuberance had worn off he wasn't anticipating life as a half-whatever person. _It's hard to balance with these feet. I suppose they're my toes, actually..._

Sirius bounded south—_always south—_and the others followed—a more cautious and more eccentric group than had arrived the day before.

* * *

Sometime between another quick dip in the stream that afternoon and their recent decision to camp for at least part of the night, James Potter thought up an idea. A terrific idea. An idea so fantastic it made him laugh aloud as he set off with Padfoot in search of 'anything edible.' Or at least that had been his excuse...

_"As soon as you two finish the transformation, you'll be Animagi,"_ Remus had said. _So Sirius has to change back, and Severus has to complete the transformation then change back, and then everything will be grand._ He knew the others could do it—_they've made it this far, haven't they?—_now they just needed another push to finish the change. More Quintaped puke wouldn't help; it was too dangerous to retrieve and appeared to be just a temporary solution anyway.

No, what they needed was to panic. _It's a 'life or death' situation, and their only hope is to transform... so they do! Totally simple and totally brilliant,_ he congratulated himself. Unfortunately, engineering what would appear a 'life or death' situation had proved harder than he'd thought. Only a stroke of extraordinarily good luck had solved this problem; when he'd separated from the group earlier to use the non-existent facilities he'd discovered an eerie cave with a Quintaped corpse inside. It had scared him half to death until he'd realized the monster was dead, but now... _Now it's an integral part of the plan! _He laughed again, and Sirius perked his ears up curiously.

"Come on, Padfoot; I saw a cave earlier, there might be some mushrooms or something in there." Sirius made gagging noises but followed him to the cavern's entrance, where they stopped and stared in awe and perhaps a bit of fear.

_It is creepier at dusk,_ James admitted to himself, _but there's nothing in there but a stone-cold corpse. _"I'll go first, Sirius," he said, but it came out as more of a whisper. Padfoot whined and tugged on his sleeve. "Come on, Sirius. Don't tell me you're scared of the dark?" That silenced all protests, and Sirius followed him into the cave.

Their footsteps echoed noisily through the room. James could hear water dripping, somewhere. He approached the pillar which hid the monster's ghastly remains—_the moment has come_—he stepped behind it and screamed.

"AAAHHHHHHHHH! IT'S GOT ME! SIRIUS, RUN! GET HELP—!" He transformed into Prongs and continued to scream, now with a stag's tongue; the result was a horrifying shriek that echoed throughout the cavern. James ducked behind the corpse and prodded it with his antlers; it moved sluggishly but just enough to convince Sirius the danger was real. James poked his head around just in time to see a huge, black dog-shape run into the night, barking frantically. He changed back and chuckled. _Step One, complete. Now he'll have to change to tell the others what's going on..._

* * *

Sirius ran straight into Remus, barking and growling like a lunatic. Severus yanked the mutt off as best he could without fingers and demanded: "What's going on? Where's James?" Sirius continued to howl frantically, craning his head constantly towards the way he'd come. Severus didn't need to see his mind so panic-stricken to know what had happened.

"Here, Remus—get the last vial of Exploding Fluid from my pocket; there's no way I can throw without hands." Remus nodded; they took off running after Sirius, and Severus was soon reduced to loping along on all four limbs. It was quicker... _and dignity be damned anyway, especially if James has run into another Quintaped._

When Sirius darted into the cavern he immediately cursed both Gryffindors a million times the fool—_Who but James Potter and Sirius Black would run into a spooky cave at twilight when there are monsters around?_—but followed anyway.

Inside it was deathly quiet. Sirius was no longer running, but creeping across the ground; his nose pointed to a pillar up ahead. Remus glanced at Severus and he nodded in silent agreement, urging the Gryffindor forward. They rounded the corner and there it was, another Quintaped; it began to growl ferociously but there was no sign of James.

"THROW, REMUS!"

The werewolf hurled the vial through the air directly towards the beast. But rather than snatching it out of the air, the Quintaped simply stood and let the glass shatter against its face. _What the...?_ Severus stepped forward cautiously. It still made no movement.

"Is it already dead?" Remus wondered aloud. "James?"

The Exploding Fluid was sliding down thick orangey-brown hairs, sliding towards an eventual confrontation with the ground. A drop reached the end of the line, hung, trembled... fell...

_BOOM._ The stone floor cracked outwards, imitating a spider's web, the walls began to shake. Severus looked up and saw stalactites trembling like china about to fall off a table.

"_LOOK OUT!_" Remus dove into him, sprawling them both across the ground; a stalactite crashed into the floor right where he'd been standing. Sirius leaped over them, dodging another falling rock. _The cave is collapsing...!_

"GET UNDER THE QUINTAPED!" he shouted. There was no time to reach the exit. They scrambled across the floor, coughing and choking from the sudden downpour of dust and grit that made it almost impossible to see. Sirius was half-dragging him along by his sleeve, and Severus' claws had a firm grip on Remus' shirt collar. "JAMES?" he shouted, desperate...

"I'm here! Get under here!" Quidditch-callused hands grabbed his wrist and yanked him roughly forward until Remus, the mutt and Severus himself were all beneath the Quintaped.

"_James?_" Severus gasped. A final torrent of rock and dust made it impossible to hear any reply. The three boys and dog clutched each other tightly, huddling together as far as possible from the devastation that was happening just inches away. A few minutes later the eerie silence returned, disrupted only by an occasional clatter as some small rocks completed their journey downward.

"James?" Remus asked finally.

"Y-Yes?"

"You better have a good explanation for this."

"Let's see if we can get out of here first," Severus suggested. "Then we can maim him."

"Sorry," James groaned, as they slid out from beneath their hairy shelter to assess the situation. "I just—I just had this theory, you know... I thought if I got you scared enough, you could finish the transforma—" He froze.

The cave's entrance remained unblocked, which was a marvelously good thing.

But guarding the entrance possessively was a huge creature. The fading sunlight at its back cast an enormous, five-legged shadow across the cracked floor, and its gleaming red eyes flickered with horrible amusement as they surveyed the ragged, dust-covered band of exhausted teenagers. _A monstrously bad thing. And I'm out of Exploding Fluid._

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So! What's funny? What's sad? What's gooey? What's artificially flavored? What's completely random and has no point whatsoever? How do I know unless you hit the little button that says review!


	12. This Time the Whole World is Falling

DISCLAIMER(S):

1. JKR owns Harry Potter. I'm not JKR. Therefore, I do not own Harry Potter. Hooray for logic. -insert lame cheering-

2. After reading several of your (wonderful) reviews, I thought it prudent to mention that neither I nor can be held legally responsible for any injuries caused by reading this fanfiction, e.g. dying, or falling out of chairs.

3. Also, I wanted to address a point brought up by another (wonderful) review because it will continue to hold true for the rest of the fanfiction. This story has two modes: drama/angst/hurt-comfort and humor/humor/more humor. The mode "in control"tends to hold true for a chapter or four and then the other conquers it again. And so forth. Um. I hope this doesn't bother anyone too much (though personally, I like both genres. As you could probably tell, cause I'm the author, ya know-)

Severus: For Merlin's sake, woman, put up the bloody dedication already.

THE BLOODY DEDICATION:

Severus: ha. ha. ha.

This chapter is dedicated to 1) everyone who had the patience to wade through this horrendously long A/N, 2) everyone who has reviewed because ya'll make me so happy, and 3) influenza, which should DIE, and which is the reason you're getting this chapter early too.

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter XI:**

_**This Time the Whole World is Falling Down**_

Severus didn't panic. He didn't have time.

The Quintaped roared what might have been a battle cry and charged forward. James—_ever the courageous idiot_—transformed and rushed to meet it, Sirius at his side. Severus dodged behind the stone column, out of the way. He heard the Quintaped scream in rage as Black's teeth found their mark. There were scuffling noises, the stomp of clubfeet, a howl of pain; Severus slid through the gap between the cave wall and the pillar just in time to see a clubfoot slam Sirius in the side, throwing him across the room to land at Severus' feet.

"Sirius! _Sirius?_" he fell to the ground by the dog's side, searching frantically for a pulse—_where are the arteries on a dog? _Sirius moaned, and Severus felt relieved for half a moment—_but where are the others? _He heard the Quintaped roar; it was behind him now. A glance over his shoulder revealed that James had taken refuge under the five-legged corpse once more, much to the living beast's displeasure—_now it's backing off, is he safe? Wait... _The Quintaped jumped forward, smashing into the carcass—_Good Merlin it's trying to crush him!_ Severus leapt to his feet as the monster attacked again, but the beast was overenthusiastic and aiming poorly; it hit the pillar.

That stone structure, already cracked from the Exploding Fluid, decided it was time to collapse.

_MOVE—!_ screamed his mind. Severus grabbed Sirius, tried to drag him to safety and failed—_too heavy_—"Sirius if you ever want to prove your friend's stupid bloody theory _change NOW!_" he shouted into the dog's ear. Apparently this was motivation enough; Severus managed to stumble away from the pillar towing a blood-spattered Sirius _who is now miraculously human, thank Merlin, James, whoever—where IS James—and where is—_

He glanced around, looking for Remus... and swore. There was James, still a stag, but pinned down by the Quintaped corpse just as Severus had been two nights ago. He was easy prey, but the monster had turned to stalk Remus, who was waving his arms and shouting, drawing its attention away from James. _But now he's going to get eaten—!_

Now Severus did start to panic. _Sirius is hurt, James is stuck, Remus is suicidal and I don't have a wand or potions or Dungbombs or a knife or anything and I'm as defenseless as he is—_something tugged his trouser leg. It was Sirius.

"_What?_"

"Prove the stupid bloody theory," he whispered. "You've got claws. Use them." Severus stared. Sirius gave him a lopsided grin and a wink.

_Well, if Sirius can do it. Here goes nothing..._

_Closed eyes, breath even, calm and quiet and concentrating and forget Remus who's going to die and the Quintaped that's going to chomp us all up into tiny digestible bits... Forget James and forget Sirius_

_Sirius thinks I can do this_

_I don't know if I can do this_

_Remember the notes—it's not step-by-step—it was before but there's no miraculous vomit to help you now, Severus—it's not step-by-step—it's all or nothing, nothing or everything..._

_Everything in me has to want it_

_I, aloof and sarcastic, jealous and proud, hating and hated and understanding nothing else—I, almost hopeful, still confused but learning what happy is, yet terrified I'll lose it—I, never waking without wondering whether I'll live to sleep again—I, with an unacknowledged, untouchable, shadowy pit within me, powerful, evil, not there with my consent... yet part of me_

_That's all of me, I suppose_

_If I'm not ready now I'll never be_

_Change._

Severus opened his eyes a half second after they'd closed. Sirius was bigger—a lot bigger_—_and he was staring. _So I was successful?_

"AAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

_Remus!_ Severus sprung to his four feet and ran towards the sound; he hadn't time to discover what he was—the Quintaped raised a clubfoot, preparing for the kill. _Merlin I won't make it..._

Severus jumped. Instinct took over and wings he didn't know he had beat once, twice, propelling him forward. He landed square in the middle of the creature's ugly face and—as if he'd meant to do so all along—dug ten sharp claws into its eyes. The Quintaped howled, turning and thrashing and trying to shake him off—but its clubfeet couldn't reach him and Severus had a good grip. He lashed out with his back legs, scratching and clawing, careful to avoid the gaping mouth and sharp teeth. The monster started slamming itself into the cavern wall, hoping to squash him...

...and for the third time that evening Severus heard a crescendo of rumbling and quivering rock, preparing to fall; the cavern had already put up with an explosion and _one_ Quintaped attack, two was apparently too many. This time the whole world was coming down.

The Quintaped, due to its enormous size, was the first casualty. A falling rock knocked it into unconsciousness and threw Severus halfway across the room. James—freed by Remus seconds before—proved his phenomenal Chaser skills by catching him in the middle of a full-out sprint towards the entrance. Sirius was already outside, limping, pale and shouting:

"COME ON! RUN! _HURRY!_"

They ran. Stone shattered on the floor around them; the entrance was getting closer... but also smaller. James arrived first and threw himself through the gap—Severus heard another rock slide tumble down the walls—

"_Where's Remus?_" Sirius shouted. James sat up, bewildered; Severus transformed back and stuck his head through the now-tiny hole...

"_REMUS?_" he screamed.

Something heavy slammed into his chest and knocked Severus back onto the ground. He opened his eyes; Remus was sprawled across him looking rather embarrassed but very much intact.

"Remus, you're _alive!_" James and Sirius tackled the werewolf simultaneously; there was a moment of confusion and suddenly Severus found himself in the midst of what he could only call a group hug. They were all laughing now, more than a bit hysterically—it was thank-Merlin-we're-all-still-alive laughter.

After a few minutes they collapsed, panting, onto the ground—staring at the glittering night sky in an odd parody of their cloud-watching the day before. They lay there in companionable silence for almost five minutes, reveling in the glory of life itself.

Finally Sirius spoke.

"You saved my life."

It took Severus a moment to realize he was being addressed.

"Well, both of you saved _my_ life," he answered.

"You saved my life too," Remus replied.

"And you definitely saved my life—a million times over," James told Remus.

"You saved ours in the first place," Remus said, "And I wouldn't have been around to save you but for Severus—"

"Sirius told me how," Severus disagreed. "I wouldn't have been able to transform otherwise..."

"But you're the one who told me how to change back in the first place," Sirius added.

"It was all James' idea to begin with." Severus rolled over on his stomach to stare at James through the tall grass. "And for that I don't know whether to hex you or thank you—maybe we should let Sirius throw you in the stream."

"Hear, hear!"

"Oh, shut it, Padfoot," said James. The comfortable silence returned for a minute, until he continued: "We're Animagi now, right?"

"Yep," Sirius answered. He lay on Severus' right, playing with a blade of grass.

"So Remus can transform tomorrow without worrying about killing anyone..."

"Yep."

"...and we can outrun all the Quintapeds easily..."

"Yep."

"A stag, dog, werewolf and a..." James frowned. "Severus, what are you again? I know you were about the size of a quaffle and had feathers, but...?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "There was rather a lot on my mind at that point—"

"Well, get going then!"

Severus glared at Sirius and transformed. _That was easier than before. I suppose one improves with practice._ He yawned and stretched himself out, furry grey paws extended in front of him; he twisted his head sideways to examine his wings—_also grey, and feathery. _Something swished by; he froze—_what was that—_after stalking it for a moment Severus realized it was his tail.

He heard the others laughing at him—_I suppose I do look a sight, chasing my own tail—_but he didn't care. Severus started running around the others, his stride more fluid and graceful than his Cruciatus-wracked human form could ever hope to emulate—_now I understand Sirius' ecstasy; this is wonderful... and there's more..._ He was coming up on James; he jumped on his back, his head and sprung off into the sky... and was flying. Flying not on a clumsy, uncontrollable broomstick, but on his own wings, under his own power... It was wonderful. Simply wonderful. Indescribable. _Now I know what Dumbledore meant by 'joy.' I'm never coming down._ _Never, never, never... _James was waving at him. _Well, there's always the rest of my life—however long that might be._

Severus landed with a bump and changed back immediately. "Now I know why you like flying so much."

"Yep. Winged cat, huh? Wicked!" Sirius gave him a high-five; James, not one to be left out, did too... Severus glanced at Remus and the smile fell off his face completely.

"What's wrong?" The others followed his gaze to their friend's ashen face and started questioning him too: "Are you okay?" "Are you hurt?" "Are you—"

"Y-You're," Remus stammered, staring at Severus, "you're an Egyptian Demon Cat." Severus' heart skipped a beat. _Coincidence—the name's a coincidence..._

Sirius' eyes widened. "Whoa, Remus! You knew that off the top of your head? You're going to ace your Care of Magical Creatures O.W.L—"

"I did a report for Kettleburn on Egyptian Demon Cats," Remus continued, still watching Severus, "James did the Quintapeds and you did the Hebridean Black, remember? It was the essay on whatever _magical _creature you chose..."

"And what does this have to do with the fact that you look like someone just fed you bubotuber pus?" James asked.

"Don't you remember all the hours of research we did? All the books you bought in Hogsmeade—remember the best one was The Creature Within You, which cost us all a month's pocket money? Remember chapter thirteen—_Why There is Absolutely No Chance Whatsoever Your Animagus Form Will Be a Magical Creature?_"

They were all staring at Severus now; he swallowed with a dry throat—_was it only a minute ago life was good?_—and tried to keep his face calm. For some reason this was as stressful as being interrogated by the Dark Lord himself. _I will not panic, I will not panic, I will—_

"You can't have a magical animagus form... cause humans aren't innately magical, right?" Sirius recited slowly. "So you'd have to be... not... human..."

* * *

So! What's edible? What's cute? What's scary? What's entertaining? What's aquamarine? What'll you do to me if I don't update soon? -evil laughter rises in pitch then fades away-


	13. Despite Everything I've Said and More I

DISCLAIMER: Ring around the roseses, Fluffy ate my toeses, ashes, ashes, it ain't mine!

DEDICATION: I suppose this is as good a chapter as any to dedicate to my new favorite word: huggbees. I like saying the word hugbees. Go ahead. Try it. Huggbees.

* * *

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XII:**

_**Despite Everything I've Said and More I Haven't**_

Before Sirius had finished his sentence Severus was gone, running through the trees. It was an instantaneous, unreasoning decision; he didn't know where he was going and he didn't care, he just had to get away—_the best thing... the best thing ever and it's as twisted as I am_. _The fates laugh and spit in my face._ Someone tackled him from behind and he slammed into the ground.

"Severus? _Severus!_ Talk to me—"

"Get OFF me, Potter!" he shouted, flailing and thrashing his arms, trying to escape. James yanked him upright; Severus tried to punch him but James grabbed his arms, holding them behind his back. He tried to kick, but Remus and Sirius—who was still limping—finally caught up and seized his legs, pinning him to the ground. Severus clenched his eyes tightly shut—_I'm not going to look at them, I'm not going to talk to them, I'm NOT going to cry—_but tears of frustration and hopelessness were already forming behind his eyelids...

"Severus—Sev, look at me. _Look at me,_" Remus commanded. Slowly, unwillingly, Severus opened his eyes... and when he looked at Remus, whose mind was radiating concern at unprecedented levels, he broke down completely and started sobbing.

They must have let go at some point, because his face was buried in his hands as he curled into a ball, once more refusing to look at the Gryffindors. Remus' arm draped around his shoulder; the others sat nearby, offering comfort but also preventing another escape attempt. Finally Severus swallowed one last sob and sat trembling, unsure what to say or do. The entire situation was utterly humiliating...

"Severus? Will you talk now?" Remus' voice was pleading. Severus sighed and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "You don't have to tell us if you really don't want to—"

"No," he heard himself say, "no, it's okay. Sorry, I'm just... it's just..." he sighed again. "Do you know that the past day or two have been some of the best of my life? Isn't that pathetic? Out here with no food, no wands, and Quintapeds after our blood... But, you know, for arrogant, foolhardy Gryffindors... you lot really aren't half bad."

Sirius grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"No kidding." Severus closed his eyes again and took a few deep breaths. _They're still waiting._ "You remember, James, the day we arrived here, when you asked me about that insane man who has it in for me? And I told you that calling up demons is something no one in their right mind would want to experience?"

"Yes."

"That's because demons feed off pain. If you want to summon them and bind them to do your will, you have to first attract them with it. That's another reason so few Dark wizards take up the mantle; not many are willing to ritually torture themselves every other weekend. However..." Severus took another deep breath, forcing back memories, "there's a loophole, of sorts, in the magic. Blood is very important to demons, and it works almost as well if... if the person being tortured is a close relative of the person raising the hell."

Remus' grip on his shoulder tightened considerably.

"And that... and that's what this Death Eater tried. Only... he wanted to be stronger than the average demon raiser. He wanted to be able to call up scores of demons at once, not just one or two. He had a theory that it would be possible, if instead of fathering a child by a witch, he called up a demoness... and... well..." Severus sniffed and blinked back more tears. "Anyway, he had a son, and his theory worked... but eventually the experience and his memories of it drove him to insanity."

"Good Merlin... and I thought _I _had bad relatives," Sirius murmured.

"Midsummer," James said suddenly. "That midsummer, before second year, the attack on the Ministry of Magic. Dad was there. He said there were swarms of them, impossible to control... It was a bloodbath," he whispered.

"That was w-when I decided to go to the H-Headmaster." Severus sniffed again and let Remus pull him closer; the werewolf was practically holding him upright. "He's more my f-father than anyone. He's the only other person I've ever told; he's the one who figured out that's why I do Legilimency so oddly—demons can only invade minds if they're invited, right? It's the same principle. Even if you're just... h-half... demon..." he trailed off into a miserable silence.

"But why did you run?" Remus asked.

The question caught Severus off guard. "I—I don't know. I just..."

"Don't tell me you thought we'd _care?_" James interrupted. Severus was silent, unwilling to admit that was exactly what he'd been thinking. "How could you think we'd judge you because of something like that? Heck, Remus is a werewolf and we've been friends since forever—"

"Demons aren't werewolves. Werewolves are people caught in a bad situation; demons are _evil_. They're soulless, heartless creatures. There's no reasoning with them, they spread ruin faster than dementors and the worst make the Dark Lord look like a philanthropist."

"If you're using that definition then you aren't related to them at _all_."

"If you think I'm innocent, Remus, you don't know me very well. I have more blood on my hands than I can ever hope to wash off... You know I was a Death Eater but you haven't the slightest idea what I've done."

"Did you _want_ to do any of it?" James asked.

"When I thought it would make my father love me? Yes. When I thought the Dark Lord represented something worthwhile and wanted to please him? Yes. When I was half-insane with frustration and anger and had to take it out on something? _Yes._" He shivered. "Though I won't say I don't wish I could take it all back."

"If you—I mean, why did you ever think You-Know-Who was worthwhile?" Remus asked.

"He convinced Father to let me attend Hogwarts. It was the most wonderful, inconceivable gift... I know his motives were self-serving, but still. Today I just find it all deliciously ironic: the Dark Lord himself led me straight to Dumbledore."

After a few moments of solemn silence James spoke. "So, what if we wrote up an official consensus that we 'solemnly vow not to kick you off the island for being half-demon' or something like that? Would that make you feel better?" Severus rolled his eyes; Remus grinned and seconded the proposal.

"Padfoot, what do you think? ...Padfoot?"

They all turned towards Sirius, who was staring off into the distance contemplatively. "Padfoot?"

When Sirius answered it was with more seriousness than Severus would have imagined him capable of, especially considering the subject matter he'd chosen.

"I think," he stated, "that we should make him a Marauder."

By the time Severus realized his mouth was hanging open Sirius had continued:

"Think about it. First off, there's supposed to be four of us. We've always had four—it's the best number for Exploding Snap, the best for snowball fights, the best for pulling pranks... It's like a divine rule, you have to have four. And ever since Wormtail turned traitor it's been _us_ four, we just didn't know it yet. Secondly, I think we need you, Severus. You've saved our arses about a thousand times since we got here—"

"Hardly," he protested. "You're the ones who got the Quintaped off me. You're the ones who had to rescue me from my own bloody father. _You_ lugged me through about a billion miles of forest yesterday—"

"But you're the one who brings the Exploding Fluid, who makes the healing potions from scratch, who knows how to skin a fish and read peoples' minds. We might get you out of your messes but you get us out of ours. It balances out. See, there's James who takes the incentive and keeps things going when they get screwed up; there's Remus who knows what to do whenever anybody's upset and who makes sure we do our homework now and then—"

"—there's Sirius who makes sure we all get our daily dose of insanity—" James said with a carefully innocent face.

"—ha ha. And we need you too. We need you to be there when we're being, what was it... arrogant foolhardy Gryffindors? We need you to get us through it in one piece. I need you to argue with. And finally, we know you're good at pranks because you've pulled them on _us_. And you're already an Animagus... all you really need is a nickname."

"I vote 'Fwuffy-Ickle-Snookie-Pussy'," said James.

"So that's two ayes. What about you, Moony?"

"All for it, if Severus is." Remus turned to look at him. "Well?"

Severus stared back, disbelief on his face but a flicker of hope in his eyes... "You're s-sure?" he whispered. The others nodded and slowly, hesitantly, he smiled. _Maybe optimists aren't fools after all._

"Yep, and besides—you don't have a choice," Sirius said. "Three of us have voted "aye" and majority rules. So there. And now that _that's_ settled, speaking of miraculous-healing-potions-from-scratch, would you mind looking at my leg? I think that bloody Quintaped sprained it."

* * *

Twenty-four hours later a stag, a werewolf, a dog and a feathered cat about the size of a quaffle stood together beneath the full moon. Rain poured from the sky, saturating ground and fur indiscriminately, but not obstructing their view of what was beyond the horizon.

The horizon itself was gone, swallowed by a boiling ocean and the storm's mighty rage. Waves, frothing with mad fury, slammed into the rocks below. Far below. For while their paws and hooves stood merely inches from the top of this towering precipice, the waves licked the bottom, a bottom that seemed miles away.

The foursome stood, breathing the damp, salty air and watching this exhibition of nature's power. Only they could say whether they gazed in relief at having made it so far or in trepidation about the challenges that lay ahead.

* * *

Awwwww, it's sweet! -happy face-

So, it's time to review again. Tell me what you think. Go ahead. Huggbees!


	14. The Naming of the Cat and the Origin of

DISCLAIMER: YES! I AM J. K. Rowling! MWAHAHAHAHA! -snickers- That was fun to say. And did anyone believe me? No. So why do I even have to say this...?

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to everyone who has reviewed so far because you guys really cheer me up, ya know? Influenza and now a buttload of make-up work... bleh... I need cheering. And the cool thing about being an author is I can complain here and ya'll don't mind! It's awesome! I loooove you all! The hillllls are allllive, with the sound of...

-The Marauders drag the author away and into the nice little truck with "Psychiatric Ward" painted in pretty letter on the side.-

Severus: We apologize for the stupid author. Now, on with the chapter.

**

* * *

**

It Falls to the Young Chapter XIII:

_**The Naming of the Cat and the Origin of the Motorcycle**_

Severus opened his eyes and peered out at the world. It looked cold, bleak, damp, foggy, and decidedly unpleasant, so he decided to go back to sleep.

Sirius chose that moment to roll over, nearly squashing him in the process. Severus hissed and swiped at the mutt; Sirius just rolled his eyes and batted him away with one giant paw. The scuffle, however short, was enough to wake up James, who yawned, transformed and sat up.

"Morning," James mumbled, removing his glasses and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He frowned at his dew-soaked trousers. "Is it just me or is it awful cold this morning?"

Sirius groaned and buried his face beneath his paws. Severus walked over to Remus and curled up next to his sleeping form. _It's cold because it rained, _he commented silently.

"If you're awake why don't you change back?"

_And give up a fur coat? You're the one who said it was cold. _He heard Sirius snort in agreement.

When Remus woke up Severus was purring, as he was—_contrary to all expectations_—in a rather good mood. He'd finally gotten a decent night's sleep; they'd slept huddled together in an attempt to keep the wind and rain at bay and it had worked... at least for him. _Being the smallest certainly has its advantages._

Remus, he noted as the werewolf yawned, was looking rather peaked; he was pale but smiling and his eyes were bright as he greeted them:

"Good morning! Merlin," he said, examining his arms, "you don't know how nice it is to wake up and learn you haven't attacked yourself overnight..."

"That's what comes from having such astonishingly wonderful, devoted and handsome friends," Sirius answered, fluttering his eyelashes.

Remus laughed. "I agree. But I'm more surprised to see you two awake at this hour—"

"Blame Padfoot. Blame Severus. Whoever." James yawned again.

"Sleepy, Prongs?" Sirius asked. "Why should you be sleepy on this most historic day, the day us four lucky starving blokes get to swim across the angry raging ocean of _death_ and most probably drown ourselves?" They all turned to stare out across the water. The mainland was barely visible, a tiny line of dust on the far side of the sea.

"Way to kill the mood, Padfoot."

"Thank you. I do try my best."

James ignored Sirius, crawled over to the edge and looked down. The others joined him, lying prone on the cliff and trying not to give into the slight nausea all felt at the sight before them. The water lapped calmly against the island's edges, hundreds of feet below. The sheer drop was intimidating, and they had to get down it somehow.

"We have to get down there somehow."

_Your astoundingly acute grasp of the obvious never fails to amaze me, Sirius._

"Shut up and change back. I'm tired of you talking in my head." Instead Severus bunched his muscles and leapt off the edge, falling into an uncontrolled and exhilarating rush of wind before flapping his wings twice and landing primly on a rock below. He ignored the Gryffindors' shouting, blocked them from his mind, and began scanning the precipice for an easy way down.

Five minutes later—any longer, and the Gryffindors would have suffered anxiety attacks _en masse_—Severus found what he was looking for: a rough, uneven patch of cliff that stretched almost all the way to the ocean. _I've got it,_ he called. _You'll have to jump the last ten feet or so, but you're Gryffindors, right?_

_What? _James asked.

_I'm going to talk you down. Then you can swim to this rock, then to the mainland._

_You want to do it NOW? _Sirius sputtered.

_Why not? The sooner we get there, the better. I could use something to eat._

_Point taken._

_You start about thirty yards to your left... there. Where Remus is. _Severus flew to a ledge about halfway down the cliff and peered up at his friends. _Okay, who's first?_

_Are we going one at a time or all at once?_ Remus asked.

_I don't care—actually, all at once. Let's get it over with._

_Can you hold us all in your head at once?_

_I have no doubt. I'm doing it now, did you not notice? _And he could, oddly enough; the more time Severus spent with them the easier it was to permeate their minds—he didn't even request formal permission anymore. _Just like with Dumbledore._

_What?_

_Never mind. Now, who's first? James? Hold onto the edge and put your left foot out to the side a bit..._

An hour later the foursome lay strewn about Severus' rock, their nerves threadbare and their clothes thoroughly soaked.

"That was the most stressful experience of my life," Sirius groaned. "And considering these last few days, that's saying something." The others muttered in general agreement.

James turned to stare at the mainland once more. "Just like swimming the Channel, right? Muggles do that all the time."

"Yep, and lots of them drown—"

"_Padfoot!_ You're not helping!" A wave broke over the rock, drenching them further.

"The tide's coming in," Remus said. "We'd better go." But he made no move to get in the icy water.

"What, scared we won't make it?" Sirius asked.

"Yes."

_As I said before, we have no choice, so let's just get it over with_. Severus stretched himself out and glared at the James and Sirius until they transformed as well. Within a minute they had begun the long swim to the shore.

_And... they're off!_

_Shut UP, Padfoot. _

* * *

Severus was lucky and he knew it. He hung comfortably among the huge puffy clouds, nothing but air between the sea and his paws. Far below he saw the others, small as pebbles, swimming through the current—a dog, Remus and James. After some experimentation James had decided stags were not designed for aquatic activities. _You lot doing okay?_

_Oh, everything's just splendid, _Sirius drawled. _I think my paws have gone numb._

_Ditto, _said James.Severus saw him turn to look back at the 'Isle of the Bloody Quintapeds.' _Do I even want to ask how far we've come?_

_Three-quarters of the way._

_Good, _Remus thought, _because I'm getting really tired._

The sun's unmerciful heat bore down from directly overhead when they finally reached the shore and collapsed on the sand. Severus fell over as he landed, his wings stiff and sore; the others were even worse off. Sirius was swearing again, and James and Remus fell asleep right on the beach. Severus transformed back and rolled his shoulders a few times, grimacing at the strain on unfamiliar muscles. He pulled himself up and glanced at Sirius, who was rapidly losing the fight to stay conscious.

"Stay with them, Sirius. I'll be back in a bit."

Without waiting for a reply, Severus started walking inland; although it was perhaps the last thing his wobbling legs desired, they all needed something to eat, and he was the only one not currently in a state of collapse. His fears were relieved somewhat when he discovered the first sign of civilization—a road, no less, and with a signpost that read:

_Brock road. ½ miles to Oaksteade._

Underneath, scrawled with red spray-paint, was the phrase: _Beware of Billy._

Severus wondered why the town needed this sign; he could see it already—a congregation of buildings ranging from shabby rundowns to tidy cafes. The latter promised food, which made his mouth water. He thought about coming back for the Gryffindors—_but that would take too long. And they'll sleep all day if I let them. _So he retraced his steps to the rocky beach where he found his companions still snoring.

It took longer to convince them to move than it had to discover the village in the first place. He eventually managed it—through copious use of saltwater, shouting, bribery and blackmail—and the foursome stumbled their way towards Oaksteade. On arrival, the first thing Severus noticed was that it appeared to be a tourist town. Muggle families took pictures in front of historic buildings—the shabby rundowns—and groups of teenage girls flitted from one little shop to another. The second thing he noticed was that all these holidaymakers glanced at them with alarmed eyes before herding their children to the opposite side of the street. Severus looked at Remus, who seemed to have noticed this as well. _No wonder—we look like a group of bums who haven't bathed in years. Sirius and I are wearing wizard's robes and Remus and James are barefoot—not to mention that they're still soaked. _

As if by unspoken agreement he and Remus pulled James and Sirius into the next side alley they passed.

"What?" Sirius demanded.

"Haven't you seen the weird looks we're getting, Padfoot? We look like..." Remus glanced at his companions, "...like a gang of desperate runaways or something. There's no way we can just saunter into a restaurant—not to mention the fact that we have no muggle money."

"Can't we just find the wizarding section of town and—"

"Don't be thick, James," said Severus. "Use what little logic is lodged within that head of yours. We don't know anyone here; the local wizards could be actively working for the Dark Lord. It's not worth the risk, however small that might be."

"What do we do then?" Sirius asked. "Just blend in instantly and pull muggle money out of a hat?"

James suddenly grinned and cast an appraising glance over them in a way Severus found disturbing. "I have an idea," he announced.

Severus sighed. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like it?"

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages! Step right up, right up here, for today is the day, ladies and gentlemen, the first and last day of this most spectacular presentation! Introducing... um... Nate! And his amazing dog and cat tricks!"

_I am going to kill you._

James just grinned. Severus had to admit, if they were going to attempt this utterly juvenile caper, James was doing a decent job of it. He was attempting the role of magician, having donned Severus' robes and shoes. Remus was wearing Sirius' shoes and looking nervous, if marginally more presentable. Severus was hiding behind them both; despite Remus' assurances that Egyptian demon cats could appear "wingless and completely mundane" whenever they pleased, he wasn't taking any chances until he had to.

There was a smattering of unenthusiastic applause as Remus stepped forward. "This amazing pair of household pets is capable of most remarkable feats!" James continued to shout. "So behold—the dog that understands speech and the cat that reads minds!" He paused dramatically as people rolled their eyes. "Ask them to do anything, anything at all... Um... you there, in the blue hat! Do you have a request for one of Re—um, Nate's fantastically amazingly intelligent animals?"

The man turned to smirk at James condescendingly. "Yeah, sure. I want your smart-arse _dog_ to go over there," he pointed across the street, "get one of those flowers and bring it over here for my girl. Then, if he really wants to," the man smirked again, throwing a pound note to the ground, "he can go buy me a newspaper, flip it to the sports section, and show me who won last night's match."

Before the man had even finished speaking, Sirius ran over to the flower garden, snatched up a tulip and brought it back, barking like an idiot the whole time. The pound note presented a slight problem, but he eventually managed to pick it up with his teeth and carry it over to the newspaper man, who accepted the note gladly, and even put the change inside the paper so Sirius could bring it back. Quite a crowd had stopped to watch now, and many were gawking in amazement as Sirius nosed through the paper until he found the sports section and accompanying headline: _ENGLAND STOMPS IRELAND, 16-2._

"There we go! Another amazing feat, brought to you by the most fantastic animals this side of the Atlantic!"

After that, things went quite well. Sirius was in his element. He barked and drooled and managed to produce a convincing puppy-eyed gaze when he desired. James continued to play ringmaster, selecting audience members for participation and extolling the virtues of his furry companions. Remus passed around a bucket they'd found in the alley... and amazingly enough, it began to fill.

The muggles liked this new game. They cheered and clapped as Sirius fetched and did arithmetic and danced the tango with one particularly attractive young lady—he seemed a bit smug after that. Severus felt an absurd pride in creating an even greater ruckus when the crowd discovered he could do anything or find anyone they _thought _about, thanks to Legilimency. For a grand finale James proved 'the cat' was 'psychic' by letting a woman show Remus one of the cards some bloke had brought; they reshuffled the cards and, in the timeless tradition of muggle magic, let him paw through the deck until he found the ten of clubs. The crowd went wild—then even wilder when James announced the show was over.

Unfortunately, the children seemed to think this meant it was petting time, and Severus was immediately snatched up by a flurry of primary-school hands. He was not used to so much physical contact and was being pulled this way and that with alarming frequency; fortunately he was saved by a girl about his own age, the same one who'd danced with Sirius earlier. She stroked his ears while her friends played with Padfoot, and Severus had to admit he found the sensation pleasant, even if he was uncomfortably aware of his close proximity to her chest.

"What's his name?" she asked.

"Hmm?" James didn't look up from the notes he and Remus were counting. "Oh, that's Padfoot."

"No, I meant the cat—"

"Can _I_ hold him? Can I? Can I?" A girl and two boys about Nymphadora's age crowded forward. "What's his name, what's his name? How does he do that?" The kids continued to ask questions to Remus, who stared at James uncertainly, and to James, who attempted to answer them all while keeping Sirius from wandering off with the girls. Severus was simply grateful his rescuer hadn't put him down among the children; he appreciated having all his fur and whiskers still attached.

One of the boys held a blue sweet in front of his nose—it looked rather like a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean, but rounder. Severus nicked it from the boy's hand and devoured it while the onlookers laughed. The boy gave him some more sweets and Severus kept eating them, hoping for strawberry.

"So what's his name?" the girl asked again.

"Er, well..." James scratched his head. "He doesn't really have one. Yet. He's sorta new..."

"I'll name him! I'll name him!" the pony-tailed brat yelled.

Her mother gushed. "Oh that's so _sweet! _What are you going to call him, honey?"

Severus held his breath. He could see Sirius and James listening and he knew whatever the girl said, he'd never hear the end of it...

_"Skittles!"_

He breathed again. _At least it's not 'Fwuffy-Ickle-Snookie-Pussy'—but what the hell is a Skittles?_ He nicked another sweet from the boy.

"See, he likes them!" _Oh. Sweets._

"I don't know," Remus said. "It doesn't quite fit the rules. See, Padfoot has padded feet, so that makes sense, right? But Se—he doesn't look anything like a Skittle..." He backed away, as the brat looked alarmingly close to throwing a top-of-the-range tantrum.

"Sure he does," the older girl said quickly. She shifted Severus in her arms until she could stare at his face appraisingly. "There, see? Look at his eyes. I've never seen eyes that were such a bright yellow. They do look like Skittles. They're hypnotizing. Almost like magic..." She leaned over absent-mindedly and kissed his nose. For a moment Severus would have sworn the world had stopped spinning.

"Um, sure. We have to go now." James snatched him from the girl's arms and called: "Padfoot! Get over here."

_What's the rush? _Sirius asked.

_I think you two are enjoying yourselves a bit too much. And I'm hungry._ Sirius whined a bit, but followed the others back into the alley and along a twisting, random route until they'd escaped the holidaymakers' attention.

Sirius changed back. "Well," he grinned, "now I know what it's like to have a fan club!"

"As long as it worked," Severus replied nonchalantly—but he was grinning too.

"How much did we make, Moony?" James asked.

"Um... enough to have dinner but not enough to sleep indoors tonight—at least not legitimately."

Two minutes later they were inside an all-you-can-eat buffet—the owner of which would never have let them in if he'd known how much money he would lose on these seemingly innocent customers—and promptly beginning to stuff their faces. After their initial hunger was satisfied with a plate or six of mashed potatoes, roast chicken, bread, pork chops, salad, sausages, shepherd's pie, and some of everything on the pudding tray, they began discussing what to do next.

Severus thought they should head for Hogwarts. "It's a lot closer than London," he said, "and even if none of the teachers are there we can floo to headquarters from Hogsmeade."

"Good idea," Sirius pronounced through a mouthful of half-chewed chicken, "...Skittles."

"You're going to insist on that, I take it?"

"Of course." Sirius grinned wickedly. "I noticed you didn't object when _she_ called you that." Severus' face grew hot and he stared at his potatoes while James laughed.

After eating all they could, the Marauders discreetly—or in Sirius' case, not so discreetly—gathered the leftover rolls, biscuits and pieces of chicken, wrapped them in napkins and left. By now the afternoon had melted into evening, and they had begun debating which road would take them to Hogwarts when Sirius was distracted by some muggle contraption Severus had never seen before.

It was big—nearly as long as Dumbledore's desk—and made of shiny metal and black leather. It had two wheels and looked like a muggle transportation device of some sort, albeit an odd and impractical one.

"It's _beautiful_," Sirius gushed, running his fingers over the leather.

"What is it?" Severus asked.

"It's a motorcycle, obviously. And it's just..." Sirius looked as though he would continue to sing the machine's praises, but the discussion ended abruptly when a man about the size of an troll and just as ugly approached.

"Tha's _my _bike," he slurred, cracking his knuckles in an attempt to be intimidating.

"Well, _sorry_," Sirius retorted. "We were just looking. It's a nice one—where'd you get it?" The man growled, then, without warning, swung his fist at Sirius' face.

Things deteriorated rapidly after that. Severus looked on in amusement as the others fought the troll-man; eventually Sirius shifted to dog form and leapt at him, teeth bared. The man ran off screaming.

"Nice one, Sirius," Remus said, wiping the dirt off his shirt.

"Yeah, he won't remember, he was drunk anyway..." James glanced at Sirius, then they both turned to scowl at Severus, who still stood to the side, grinning. "A little more _help_ would have been nice!"

"Oh, however will I make it up to you?" Severus pretended to ponder for a moment, still smiling. "How about this?" He tossed the Gryffindors a set of keys. Sirius caught them and stared in amazement.

"These are... You—you picked his pocket?"

"Severus!" James protested. "We can't steal his motorcycle!"

"You aren't stealing it; _I _stole it. I do not approve of drunks, he irritated me, and we can get to Hogwarts much faster on this... thing... then on foot." James continued to frown. "If it bothers you that much, you can pay our friend Billy back later."

"How'd you know his name?" Remus asked.

"I nicked his wallet too," Severus admitted. "Are we going now?"

* * *

And thus concludes another exciting episode! Huggbees!

So, what was funny? What was stale? What reminded you of celery? What was the moral of the story? Do you think "Skittles" is the dumbest nickname ever given? And what do you think will happen next...?


	15. Waking Up on the Wrong Side of the

DISCLAIMER: Jingle bells, Wormtail smells, Potter isn't mine- Sev's a cat, Padfoot's a laugh and this is a poor rhyme...

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to my Latin teacher, because he is incredibly funny and an awesome teacher (even if he's really, really hard), because thanks to him my fanfiction contains accurate Latin spells! Hooray!

**UPDATE: I have added translations of the original spells in this chapter to the A/N at the bottom. Because I thought they were cool. **

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It Falls to the Young Chapter XIV:

_**Waking Up On the Wrong Side of the Universe**_

"Indicators, Sirius! Indicators—AHHH!"

"Come on, Remus! I know what I'm doing. I haven't hit anything all day!"

_Except those rubbish bins_, Severus noted from his perch on Remus' knee. _And several potholes. And that one bush. And maybe the squirrel..._

"It ran right into the middle of the road! What was I supposed to do?"

"STEER!" Remus shouted.

"I _did_ steer—"

"He means now you prat!" James reached over Sirius' shoulder to steady the handlebars. "Merlin, you're going to kill us all."

Despite the safety problems associated with riding an overcrowded motorcycle along uncharted back roads at excessive speeds—_a motorcycle steered by a Gryffindor, no less_—Severus considered the contraption a godsend. They were making wonderful time; they could take it in turns to nap while sitting between the others and consequently hadn't stopped for more than a few minutes throughout the night. _Hopefully we'll reach Hogwarts by lunch._

Finding the school itself was not a problem; the street signs for miles around were enchanted to show magical folk the way to Hogwarts—as they had discovered when Sirius missed one by centimeters.

The downside of all this was that Remus was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"_Sirius—!_"

"Sorry! I didn't see them!" A muggle in the passing car made a rude hand gesture. "Yeah? Well, same to you!"

"Just... please, please keep your hands on the bike. Please?" Remus pleaded.

Half an hour later Sirius zipped around a hairpin turn and Severus saw Hogwarts rising out of the mountains. Just as familiar but less anticipated a sight were the two lines of wizards—one cloaked in midnight black and the other composed of the Order's finest—dueling furiously near the front gate.

Sirius jolted the bike to a halt. Severus transformed instantly and grabbed him by the collar. "You are _not_ getting involved. You don't even have a wand—"

They had no time to row about it, however, because at that moment a storm of stunners knocked all four Marauders unconscious.

* * *

"...waking up. Get Poppy—"

James opened his eyes. He saw white and smelled soap and felt bed sheets and knew he was in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing. Someone was crying; he turned his head and saw his mother, smiling at him through her sobs.

"Mum?"

"James! Oh my poor dear—" She engulfed him in a deep, all-compassing hug that made tears prick at the corner of his eyes. "Oh James, we were so worried. I'm never letting you out of my sight again. My dear boy... I thought I'd never see you again—"

"It's okay, Mum. I'm okay..."

She held him close for another minute before slowly pulling back. James glanced up and saw a proud smile on his dad's face before he was caught in another hug.

"Excuse me, Richard," a stern voice interrupted, "but I do need to examine Mr. Potter sometime this evening."

"I'm fine," James repeated. "Where's everyone else?" He tried to sit up and look around the room, but Madame Pomfrey stepped forward and began casting diagnosis spells on him.

"Your friends are sleeping over there," his father said, pointing to the beds on his left. "Sirius scratched his arm on the motorcycle when he fell, but he's good as new now—and that muggle contraption has been confiscated until further notice. I can't believe you rode it here without being hurt—"

"Though you all need to rest." Pomfrey glanced at him critically once more before bustling over to her potions cabinet. "I can't _imagine_ what you were doing out there."

"It wasn't our idea," James said. He turned his head to make sure the others were really and truly there—_Sirius, of course I should have recognized his snoring. And Remus... But where's Severus? _He blinked and tendrils of a horrible suspicion began to snake through his mind.

"Peter's been frantic," said Mum. "You can see him tomorrow, but now Madame Pomfrey wants you to sleep again. She's got some Dreamless—"

"Where's Severus?" He sat up abruptly and scanned the Hospital Wing once more. "Where is he? What did—"

"James?" His father sat on the bed and put a hand on his shoulder. James shrugged it off.

"What happened, Dad? Where is he?" The adults exchanged serious looks, and he saw his father mouth something like 'Moody said it was a possibility'.

"James," his father began, "I'm sorry to ask you so soon, but what do you remember about what happened?"

"Peter did it," he said immediately. "He made the cake a portkey and then took us to You-Know-Who. We were in a cell with Severus and then his dad came and we took his portkey to the Isle of Drear and the Quintapeds tried to eat us—and we all became Animagi after Severus made the potion out of caterpillars and the Quintaped vomit—then I tried to help them finish the transformation but the cave started collapsing and—"

"James dear," his mother interrupted, "Poppy's got some sleeping potion for you. Take it and I'm sure everything will be fine in the morning—"

"NO! You don't understand! It was Peter—why would I lie to you?" He glared at his parents.

"Don't upset him, Eleanor," his father whispered. "Moody was right, they must have been Confounded—"

"_WE'RE NOT CONFOUNDED!_" he shouted."For Merlin's sake! Where the heck is Severus?"

"Mr. Potter!" Pomfrey swooped over him with a vial of purple potion. "I understand your distress, but I must insist you refrain from such outlandish behavior! This is a Hospital Wing, not a Quidditch pitch!" She uncorked the potion and handed it to him.

"Where is he, Dad? Can't you just tell me? _Please?_" He looked up at his father, trying to mimic Sirius' puppy-eyed look.

"If you take your potion." James complied instantly and was in the process of swallowing when his father answered.

"Azkaban."

James choked and spewed sleeping potion across the pristine white sheets. "_AZKABAN?_"

Ten seconds later the potion took effect and he fell back against the pillows, body and mind asleep but soul still screaming.

* * *

Severus woke in darkness so vastly incomprehensible he had trouble deciding whether he was truly awake. His mind felt unusually heavy and he had no idea where he was. For the first time in nearly a week he couldn't feel the presence of the Gryffindors, and that was more frightening than the darkness, or the long, faint screams he could hear echoing through the frigid stone he lay on.

Severus allowed his senses to spread past his body, up and over and around and out until he could find some life, something, someone... anyone...

The first two minds he encountered reminded him of his father. All three were mad.

The next was not a proper mind at all, but a rotting, fetid blister of a corpse that cracked and oozed decay—a presence so revolting he instinctively drew back in horror.

But he had lingered too long in that dreadful wasted mind and he felt it approach—silently, swiftly, as if gliding on death's wings.

He heard it breathe. Long, rattling breaths that reminded him of bones and tears and his own mortality. And as it approached the echoing screams grew louder... louder... and echoed not through the stone but through his mind...

His scream. And his father's laugh. On one fateful midsummer...

* * *

Severus didn't realize he had fainted until he woke up. Now he lay perfectly still on a table in a room so familiar he didn't need to open his eyes to identify it.

He was in Hell.

Severus wondered how much time had passed. He did not wonder how he'd gotten here from Azkaban; his current location had already answered that question. It was like muggle graffiti: _Garridan Snape was here. _For some reason that image struck him as unbearably funny and he had to stifle hysterical giggles. _Yes, think about that, Severus—think about anything else..._

"_Incendio_."

Though his eyes were still closed Severus knew the candles were flicking to life, one by one. They would burn black flame and produce no heat, thanks to the potion they were seeped in. _A potion I probably brewed._

"_Dissaepio_." He felt an icy chill as the first barrier flickered into existence. Severus opened his eyes and stared through the pane of frozen air at his father, who looked almost rational for a moment—_he's always most sane when working_. The man was somehow more menacing now then he'd been earlier, when he was drunk and raging and firing off Unforgivables like stunners. Now he was as cold as the wards he was conjuring.

"_Dissaepio_." Another ward seeped through the air around the first, enclosing Garridan in its protection. The man turned to meet Severus' gaze.

"We thought the Quintapeds would kill you," he remarked conversationally. "Or the werewolf. But it seems you managed to escape, somehow." Garridan flicked his wand and the manacles leapt to life, locking Severus' wrists and ankles in a chilling embrace and pulling him flat against the stone table. "I do not believe you will be so lucky this time."

Garridan continued to cast more wards—charms against heat, against cold, against death, against lightning, against hail, against delusions and nightmares, against fire and brimstone, against creatures and monsters, against tornadoes, hurricanes, tsunamis and earthquakes... Charms against everything that might possibly attempt to escape the netherworld.

Severus clamped his eyes shut but could not block the countdown. He knew the ritual too well. _Five wards left... Four wards left... Three... Two..._

"Do you know what today is, Severus?" Garridan paused for a long moment. Severus heard the man's breath scrape against the sides of the room, in rhythm with the dreadfully eager flickering of his mind. "Do you remember? Three years ago today I made the Dark Lord proud. Fifteen years ago today..." Severus could feel the man's eyes piercing through his, invading his soul and awakening his innermost fears. "...you drove me _insane_. Tonight is the height of midsummer, and today I intend to return that favor."

He cast the final ward, the ward of locking and sealing and binding in blood and bone and steel.

"When Diagon Alley is nothing but ashes the Dark Lord will reward me."

Severus felt the hiss of magic; the evil lingering in the room was building in anticipation.

"And you..." Garridan noted offhandedly, "will suffer. _INEO INCANTATEM!_" he roared.

The rush of a thousand million breaths slammed Severus against the stone. A wave of heat followed—heat so intense he felt blisters form where the stone and steel touched him; he was sweating and shivering and didn't dare open his eyes but he couldn't stand it he had to look...

Three feet above him a hole in the universe was forming. It sizzled in rage, spewing wisps of shadow and smoke and dropping embers that burned holes through Severus' robes and skin. Garridan was chanting now, rhythmically, madly, swaying from side to side with his arms in the air and an expression of purest concentration on his face. Severus did nothing to distract him. _If he fails I'll be the first to die._

"_Accerso te, adligo te, imperito te, debello te, tu beluae noctis cooriorire..._"

Things were emerging from the hole. Horrendous things. Things that made dementors look pretty.

They crawled along the wards, crept over the floor and ceiling, slithered up the table to gaze at him longingly, flew past his face just centimeters away. They never stopped moving, and they never stopped their continual hissing of curses, threats and lies. They cast no shadows and Severus shivered in their presence.

He tried to count them. _Dumbledore will want to know._ He didn't even bother to chide himself for thinking he would get out of this alive. He had to. People were waiting for him...

Memories of the Gryffindors flashed before his eyes then disappeared just as quickly. _I wonder if they got my note. I wonder if they know where I am. I wonder if they care. _A demon's eyes suddenly filled his own; the creature laughed manically, baring bloodstained teeth, then disappeared into the swarming mass. _I think they would care. I think so. I hope so._

The rhythm of the magic changed. The pace grew faster, harsher, a relentless pounding on his senses. They had been called. They had not come willingly. But they would work willingly, in exchange for blood.

Tears escaped his eyes. He was panicking. He was hopeless. He screamed. He screamed for help but there was no help, no help anywhere...

_For Merlin's sake God's sake please someone hear me help me help—_

Garridan raised his arms higher and screamed: "_FINITE INCANTATEM!_"

The wards vanished; Garridan approached, a silver knife in his hand; the demons leapt forward, and Severus' nightmare dissolved into a reality of blood.

* * *

_It could only be described as a ruckus,_ Remus thought as he watched the adults through slitted eyes. Their conversation—no longer hushed, but frantic—had woken him minutes before; he'd opened his mouth to ask what was going on but then he'd caught James' eye.

Something was wrong. James had motioned for him to keep quiet and pretend to sleep, when he would normally be pestering the adults for information. Remus had relayed this silent command to Sirius after the commotion had grown too loud for even he—the champion sleeper—to snooze through. Now they lay silent, trying to hear as much as possible.

"—at Diagon Alley—"

"It could be another distraction, like the one at the gates. If You-Know-Who would pull the same trick twice..."

"But the ministry's only committed half a team—"

"WHAT? Do they think this is a ruse?"

"Have you heard anything from Dumbledore yet?"

And then the creak of a door, footsteps, the other voices hushed and he heard James' father announce: "We just got a firecall from Harold Skively. The Dementors turned a few hours ago, and the Death Eaters broke Snape out."

"Merlin, that bloody _proves_ his guilt," shouted a voice Remus recognized as Moody's.

"It won't in court," Mr. Potter said. "He could claim he was kidnapped; we need something tangible. Skively said they questioned Snape just a few minutes before he escaped, but he didn't admit to anything—though they only had a few minutes and couldn't use Veritaserum due to the Wizengamot Charter of Rights' rules concerning minors. But Snape _did_ ask leave to send a letter to our boys, probably orders that align with whatever he's told them under the Confundus Charm; Skively thought we might be able to get something from that."

Remus heard the light sound of parchment hitting a table.

"Very well, Richard—but if this attack isn't a feint and if we don't get to Diagon Alley soon, there won't be anything left there to worry about! Forget Snape!"

More shouts followed Moody's declaration, and soon afterwards Remus heard the _whoosh_ of the Floo system. He was about to sit up when he heard footsteps again, much closer—then silence for a moment and the creak of the Hospital Wing's doors closing.

The footsteps faded away and Remus began to count to one hundred before moving. At twenty James set up ramrod straight, jumped out of bed and ran over to them.

"They threw Severus in Azkaban," he said. Remus stared, openmouthed; Sirius swore. "Dad and Mum and the rest think we're Confounded; they didn't believe me when I said it was Peter, and now the Death Eaters have kidnapped him—"

"We've got to find him before they do anything to him," Remus said. "What about that note your dad brought?"

They ran across the room into Madame Pomfrey's office. Prominent on her cluttered oak desk was an envelope sealed with black wax and stamped with the letters AZBN.

"Wow, I wonder where _that's_ from," Sirius said. "You know, he's bloody lucky they let him send this..."

"They were trying to get evidence against him, Padfoot. It's not an uncommon Auror practice—" James slit the letter open and held it out. Remus and Sirius leaned in to read:

_M,P,P—_

_In Azkaban. Tell the Headmaster what happened. If father comes to get me out on 'parole,' come visit—_ _Balorengre Castle, Floo password is Syphilis. The wards are set against human entry. _

—_Skittles_

"Well, that's fairly straightforward, if cleverly worded. But how the hell do we get in if the Floo wards are set to curse all humans?" Sirius punched Pomfrey's armchair and glared at the room in general.

"Easy," James answered. "Remus is a werewolf, and we'll go in as Animagi. And that settles it—no one else in the Order can help us now. Except McGonagall, but we don't know where she is and she wouldn't listen anyway. We'll do it ourselves. We'll get him back or die trying."

And for once Sirius didn't joke. He just stood beside James in silent agreement. Remus joined them, and they put their hands together like they had before when planning a prank or gag...

_But this is far more serious. This is asking for far more trouble. We aren't attempting to prank Severus; we're trying to save his life... I just hope we're not too late._

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Dum, dum dum dum! Dum, dum dum dum DUM! Notice the plot, ladies and gentlemen! The plot!

So- what was fuzzy? What was shivery? What was purple? What was entertaining? What freaked you out? How is your life going? Do you like the word huggbees?

Till next chapter, Viskii

**UPDATE July 1, 2007. SPELL TRANSLATIONS:**

**Dissaepio: barrier or partition; conjures a shield thin and clear as glass, yet very strong.**

**Ineo Incantatem: the opposite of Finite Incantatem. Ineo means to begin, commence. **

**Garridan's chant: ****"_Accerso te, adligo te, imperito te, debello te, tu beluae noctis cooriorire..._"**** means _"I summon you, I bind you, I command you, I conquer you, arise you monsters of night…"_   
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	16. In Which Little Can Be Done to Worsen

DISCLAIMER: Go to your local library and check out a Harry Potter book. Guess whose name isn't on the cover?

DEDICATION: Apparently... I freaked all my readers out. oO But that's good, apparently, because I got a lot of reviews... so this chapter is dedicated to freaking-out-ness. And to my reviewers. Because this has been a horrible afternoon and ya'll cheer me up. I love you all. -Kisses-

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It Falls to the Young Chapter XV:

_**In Which Little Can Be Done to Worsen the Situation**_

At first Remus thought they'd gotten the wrong address. It didn't _look_ like a castle.

He stood between a dog and stag in the ruins of what must once have been a magnificent entrance hall. Now the tapestries were covered with vines, the floor was covered with dust and the windows were covered with cobwebs so thick he could barely see the sun outside. They moved cautiously through the wreckage, but there was no sign of anything living. _No sign of anything intact, besides the fireplace_. Furniture lay broken and decaying on the floor and Remus caught the faintest glimpse of a family of bats lurking behind the rafters.

He followed Padfoot and Prongs through dozens of similarly ruined rooms. Nearly half an hour later they found what they were looking for—a light. There was light coming from behind a rotting door. Sirius nudged it open.

Remus' first thought was _Dumbledore's office—_but that wasn't right. _Dumbledore's office if he was a dark lunatic is more accurate._ The room was crammed full of disorganized mess. Books were stacked in heaps along the walls; the shelves held knives, skulls, cauldrons, beakers full of probably-illegal potions ingredients, a hand of glory and dozens of other things Remus didn't want to know about. Scraps of parchment and fragments of glass littered the floor, and everything smelled strongly of Firewhisky.

James transformed back and marched over to one of the walls. Sirius transformed as well; he and Remus followed James to the shelf beneath a dusty window.

"What are you—" Remus trailed off as James picked up a wand from the shelf and handed it to him. _His_ wand. "Merlin, I thought I'd never see this again," Remus said as James passed Sirius his wand. James took his, and there was one left over...

"He _has_ to be here," James said. He stared at Severus' wand for a long minute before pocketing it. Remus wondered idly what it was made of.

"Well, he's not in _here_. Let's keep going." Sirius walked back to the door, opened it and stared. "What the—"

The door did not open back into the dusty hallway they had come through. Instead it led down a set of winding stairs that looked more ominous than anything Remus had seen so far. He felt his skin tingle at the sensation of repressed magic. Remus closed his eyes and breathed the air moving up the staircase; he smelled mold, fear... blood... sweat... and Severus.

"He's down there."

They lit their wands and ran down the staircase. It seemed to spiral on forever but the smells were getting stronger and stronger... The stairs spilled out into a cramped hallway with doors along the sides.

"_Alohomora!_" Remus kicked the first open and found a potions laboratory.

"Just a bedroom," Sirius called from behind him.

"This one's empty," James said.

"Bathroom."

"Kitchen."

"More dark rubbish."

"Empty again..."

There was only one door left. They crowded around it; James tapped the handle lightly and whispered: "_Alohomora._" The door swung open slowly. A surge of awful power swept past and Remus stepped inside, sweeping the light from his wand across the floor.

The room was almost empty. A small desk near the entrance held books and potions vials, and a table in the center held... "Merlin, Severus," he whispered.

Severus lay draped over the stone table, limp as a dishcloth. His skin was deadly white, approaching translucent, and his robes had been reduced to the merest of rags and hid nothing of what had happened to him. Remus didn't even _know _what had happened to him. There were gashes and cuts all over his skin, some of which had turned nasty shades of purple and black, and blood was everywhere, dripping off the table like a fountain.

"What do we do?" Sirius whispered, biting his lip and looking as though he was about to be sick.

Remus glanced at James, who shook his head slowly, at a loss for words; he walked over to Severus' side, sneakers squelching on the bloody floor, and put two fingers on his friend's neck. Severus' skin was cold and slick with sweat, but there was a faint pulse. "He's alive." James and Sirius sighed in relief and joined him by the table.

Now that he was closer Remus could see that the marks on Severus weren't random cuts, as he had supposed, but an intricate design almost resembling a muggle tattoo. Someone had carved _runes_ into his skin, runes for taking life, taking strength, taking form and shape and transferring it to another... "This is sick," Remus spat. "This is the sickest, most disgusting thing—how could they..." He choked back tears. "Let's get him off there. I can't stand to see him like that."

James unlocked the shackles and they were further shocked by the state of Severus' wrists and ankles, which were so raw and blistered it was a wonder the skin was still intact at all.

"I'm going to kill whoever did this," Sirius announced, fists clenched so tightly they'd turned white. "I mean it."

Remus and James nodded in agreement and shifted Severus into Sirius' arms as gently as they could; Remus steadied his head as they lowered themselves to the floor. _Great. Now instead of bleeding to death on the table, he'll bleed to death on us. There has to be something else we can do..._

James stood up and started examining the potions on the desk. "Some of these have to be healing potions, right? Or maybe in the other room?"

"How would we know what to give him?" Sirius asked. "Can we wake him up and ask him?"

Remus looked down at Severus, who was breathing in short, fluttering gasps; a thin stream of blood ran down his cheek. Remus wiped it away. "He's in bad shape, James. Really bad shape. If we wake him up..." he trailed off.

"I don't think waking him up could do much to worsen the situation," James said, "and none of these bottles have labels. We _have_ to ask him." The unspoken words _or he'll die anyway_ hung in Remus' mind.

James knelt beside them and pointed his wand at Severus' forehead. "_Ennervate._"

* * *

He remembered the pain. He still felt it. He felt Father's knife, and he felt them clawing and biting at his skin, or worse—tracing it tenderly with what might have been fingers, mocking the need every human has to be touched, accepted, desired, to belong...

"Severus?"

After ripping his life out with their teeth and claws and feasting on his blood, they had grown—bigger, deadlier, uglier than before—and winked out one by one, following Garridan to Merlin-knows-where. He was alone in the dark.

It was so very, very dark...

"Come on, Severus—wake up. Please wake up..."

He had passed out, and now he was dreaming extraordinary dreams—dreams so beautiful they made him cry, and nightmares so horrific he wanted to take a knife and slice them from his memory forever. Forever and ever and ever and now he was hallucinating. Voices were talking in his head. _That's a bad sign, isn't it? I'm going insane... _

It was odd, though. The voice sounded uncannily like Remus.

"R-Remus?"

He winced at the sound of his voice—_all wrong. Too weak. Faint. Shaky. Not even the slightest hint of subtle strength behind it—what kind of Slytherin are you?_

"Severus—thank Merlin—are any of the potions by the door for healing? What should we give you?"

Severus opened his eyes. He was no longer on the table—that was good. He hated that table. He recognized the silk; Sirius was holding him—_have the Quintapeds caught up to us again? I thought I used up all the Exploding Potion yesterday. _Remus' face was looking down at him; there was a flake of soot just above his left eyebrow. He wondered if it was there on purpose.

Remus kept staring at him. Severus wondered what he was waiting for._ There's Sirius and there's supposed to be one more right because the Gryffindors always have four Marauders. They put spiders in my soup. What was that for? Nymphadora will have a fit, she doesn't want spiders on the cake..._

"Severus? Can you hear me?"

They were asking him something. _Is this a test? I need to do well on my O.W.L.S.. _Severus decided to ask a question that had been bothering him for some time now.

"A-Are you... real?"

Sirius said something he never would have said in front of Professor McGonagall. _Or Potter's mum. Is she going to kill me?_

"Yes, we're real," Remus said slowly. "Severus, I need you to tell me something—"

"Is it... f-for... the O.W.L.S.? I haven't... I haven't... f-finished s-s-studying..."

"Um, yeah, this is for the Potions O.W.L.."

"_Sirius!_"

"Shut it, Remus. Okay, here's the first question, Sev: you're hurt really badly and apparently hallucinating, so what kind of potion should we give you?"

That was a hard question. Not a lot to go on, really—_but if I'm hurt badly it's either from a meeting with the Dark Lord or Father. _Severus appraised himself absent-mindedly. _I'm bleeding, but not shaking too terribly—so not the Cruciatus. So not the Dark Lord, and not Father, either, unless it's a really good day—so why am I bleeding?—or a really bad day and that would be a demon raising. Which explains the hallucinations..._

"H-How m-many points... is... is this worth...?"

"A lot," Sirius answered. "You have to get this one right to pass."

Severus frowned in concentration. _It's not fair, putting the hardest ones first..._

"I'm p-probably... in too b-bad shape to... heal fully," he explained in short gasps, trying to clarify his answer for full credit. "So I'd... I'd take Ob-Oblivious Potion... until I got p-proper medical treatment."

"Alright. Second question: Does your—does Garridan Snape have any of this potion in here?"

"Yes..."

"Where is it?"

"T-Table," he gasped. The pain was catching back up to him; the claws had returned and dug in deeper every time he moved...

"Okay, you've got them all right so far. Last question: what does this potion look like?"

"Silver... th-thick. B-Bottle's... green..."

"Got it!" Severus heard footsteps and the pop of a cork, then a vial was held to his lips. He drank without hesitation, not particularly caring whether it was poison as long as it was _wet and cold Merlin I'm so thirsty what the—what's going on where am I what—_

He looked up. "Moony? I-Is that—are you—you _came_," he whispered, staring at the Gryffindors in disbelief. "You _came_..."

"Of course we came," James answered. "We tried to get you out sooner but the Order thought we were Confounded and I didn't wake up until they started screaming about Diagon Alley—"

Severus' eyes widened and he tried to sit up, achieving little but a surge of incredible pain down his back. "T-They've gone to Diagon Alley? What—is the Ministry—"

"Sev, calm down." Remus grasped his hands lightly, trying to hold him still. "We don't know what happened. Someone said it might be another diversion, but Moody thought it was a real attack—"

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "He was mad at the Ministry for only sending in half a division—"

"Team, Sirius, not division," James corrected.

"Whatever. Anyway, they flooed off to go see what was happening."

"It's real," Severus said. "Fa—Garridan said he was going to... to level the Alley."

"Can they _do_ that?" James asked. "Was this a..." He swallowed hard and glanced around the room. "How many did he call up?"

Severus closed his eyes, trying to remember what he'd been trying to forget. A memory of bloodstained teeth flashed through his mind and he shuddered, suddenly grateful for the Gryffindors' presence—grateful for the aura of _life_ they projected and especially for Remus' trembling hands which seemed to be his last link to reality.

"Threescore," he said finally.

"_Sixty?_" Sirius gasped. "They can't fight off sixty! There's no way—can they?"

"No," Severus agreed. "It takes two Ministry Unspeakables to put down one demon... and they have less than a dozen trained in the art."

"Merlin," James swore. "Is there nothing we can do?"

"He... he raised them through me," Severus said quietly. "I retain that connection, and I know the spells... If we can get to Diagon Alley I can try to banish them."

"Severus, you can't even stand up," said James. "How the heck—"

"Who else is going to do it?"

Remus sighed in resignation and Sirius grinned lightly. "C'mon guys, you can't deny Skittles his first chance for an idiotic, Gryffindorish, self-sacrificing adventure!"

Severus screwed up his face in disgust. "I didn't think about it that way."

"Too late. Better watch it or we'll convert you."

Severus rolled his eyes and tried once more to sit up. He succeeded—barely—and sat trembling against Sirius for a long moment, catching his breath; though the Oblivious Potion had begun to eliminate the pain he was still injured and would in fact be in an even worse condition after the potion wore off. _Every silver lining has its cloud. _He'd intended to walk, but Sirius carried him to the door and—after re-examining himself more objectively—Severus could not contest that he was completely incapable of any physical activity at the moment.

They were almost out the door before he remembered... "Any of you have a wand?"

James blinked and reached in his pocket. "Merlin, I'd forgotten! Here, Severus."

Severus took his wand and turned his gaze upon the dreadful bloody table and all the years of horror it held for him. "_Incendio._" Fire sprung up from the stone itself, licking up the blood and melting the manacles into silver puddles. "Lock the door and go. That's going to spread and we don't want to be here when it reaches the potions on the table."

"What was that for?" Remus asked as they hurried down the hall upstairs.

"He won't be able to use it for rites anymore. He'll have to do the dedication ceremony all over again—and I'll not mourn the loss of his blood."

Another minute later they reached the ruined entrance hall. James snatched the Floo powder from its niche beneath a crumpled tapestry and threw a handful into the fire; they crowded into the bricked cubicle and shouted as one:

"Diagon Alley!"

* * *

Dum dum dummmmm... the plot thickens!

So: what'd you like? What didn't you? What reminded you of watermelons? What reminded you of sawdust? What do you think will happen next...?

Toodles.


	17. What Will Eventually Be Known as the

DISCLAIMER: I own Harry Potter the way King Tut owns the Leaning Tower of Piza.

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to duj, for being a very dedicated, through reviewer who gives thoughtful critique and makes me laugh by actually answering my dumb questions. Huggbees for you!

* * *

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XVI:**

_**What Will Eventually Be Known as the Diagon Alley Fiasco**_

The sun had begun to consider retiring, and shadows fell long and pleasant upon the cobblestones. The air was warm and touched with the faintest hint of a breeze; in short, it was a beautiful midsummer's evening, the sort that ought to be spent with friends and a large portion of strawberry ice-cream.

The Marauders spilled out of the fireplace into a Diagon Alley that had no attention to spare for such glorious weather. The streets were filled with terrified witches and wizards running this way and that. The burning apothecary emitted waves of smoke and numerous explosions; children screamed while hexes flew over the crowd. The sounds of dueling were barely audible through the noise of the streets; Severus turned towards Gringotts' and glimpsed the brilliant white of a Death Eater mask...

He clutched Sirius' shoulder more tightly, shouting in his ear: "We have to get away from all these people!" Sirius nodded and began pushing through the crowd, leading the way towards the nearest store. James kicked the door open and they hurried inside a tiny junk shop Severus remembered from his second year as containing some of the most fantastically _boring_ literature on the planet—_who would ever read anything titled Prefects Who Gained Power?_ No one was in the shop, likely because the ceiling had been damaged and now trembled on the verge of collapse.

James pulled the door shut behind Remus and the noise dimmed from a roar to a growl. "What now?" he asked.

"Precautions," Severus said, glancing about as Sirius laid him on the dusty floorboards. He sneezed, shivered; a heavy cloak settled around his shoulders and he smiled gratefully at Remus. "We'll have to do them physically... this isn't a ritually-prepared spot. Candles first..."

For the next few minutes the Gryffindors dashed around, clearing the floor and hunting for a half dozen miscellaneous items he'd need for the warding. Severus tore off strips of his shredded, blood-soaked robe—_no need to draw any more blood when there's so much available—_and laid them out in a circle just big enough to hold four teenagers. He instructed Remus to secure the ends with some of the boring, but heavy, books they'd found, and to place four candles at the four points of the compass. When Sirius and James returned—with a chicken sandwich and pocketknife, respectively—he was scrawling on the floor in spidery, unbroken Latin that stretched all the way around the outside of the circle. Severus paused to dip the quill in the inkwell.

"Is that a chicken sandwich?" Remus asked. "Can I ask why we need a chicken sandwich?"

"Put it there," Severus interrupted, pointing at one of the books. "And the steel goes... there." He continued to scrawl the incantation across the floor, stopping two words short. "Okay, get inside now—and whatever you do afterwards, _don't_ cross the line."

The Gryffindors complied, but Remus still looked puzzled. "Hello? Chicken sandwich?"

"It's got bone in it," Sirius answered. "He said to find a bone—"

"And the knife is steel, and the blood completes it," said Severus as he ended the incantation with a flourish. He tapped the words with his wand and they shimmered before fading into the ground. "That's the most important ward." He glanced up at them briefly. "I should warn you that this is going to be dangerous and the warding is extremely primitive. The odds are not as good as I'd like."

"Let's get on with it then," Sirius said. "Before you talk us out of it."

"Just don't cross the line—and don't distract me. _Incendio._" The candles flickered to life. "And when the Death Eaters come, don't let them interrupt me."

James blinked. "Um... how exactly..."

"_Ineo Incantatem!_"

It was the hardest thing Severus had ever done. He knew the incantation by heart, but he couldn't just recite it; he had to push the words into his veins where he could send them out to the foul creatures that had swallowed his blood. He tangled himself in their magic, looping tendrils of taunt force around them, and began to draw them in. The demons came slowly, pulled back not only by their own lust for destruction and chaos but by his father's insistent command to _remain, remain, remain..._

And he felt so _weak,_ almost unrecognizably drained, limping... Severus dragged them onward with sheer willpower, locked in the dreadful conflict for what felt like eons.

He felt the first enter the room and heard a startled gasp from one of the Gryffindors. Severus continued to pull more and more of the beasts into the shop. They dug mental claws into his mind, trying to fix themselves in place; he tore them away and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes at the pain of it.

He ripped the universe open with a word; the demons howled at the sight. They crowded around his makeshift defenses, slamming against the invisible wall, making hideous faces and cursing indecipherably. Severus hauled them through the hole one by one, as the others continued to fight... The more he banished, the harder they struggled... until at last...

"_F-F-Fiat... Incantatem_."

There was a silence more peaceful and glorious than heaven itself.

Severus opened his eyes. The others stared down at him, looking much older and paler than they had ten minutes prior. He noticed suddenly that he was trembling. Sweat dripped from his forehead and if he hadn't been leaning against Remus he would have collapsed.

"Is it over?" James whispered. Severus nodded shakily.

"_REDUCTO!_" The door exploded in a whirlwind of splinters. On the other side stood three Death Eaters. Before Severus could blink they were exchanging curses with the Gryffindors, who, remarkably, had the sense to keep behind the warding. Thirty seconds later the Death Eaters were incapacitated: one stunned, one petrified, and one tied to the lamppost with an unsightly fungus covering his face.

"Nice one, Padfoot," said James. He stepped cautiously over the warding, snapping the spell, and stuck his head through the doorway before quickly pulling it back in.

"More Death Eaters?" Remus asked.

"No—but Dad and his lot are coming." He bit his lip and looked at Severus. "If they see you..."

Severus summoned up what precious little energy he had left and transformed, burying himself deeper in Remus' arms. He had never been so exhausted in all his life. He wanted Dumbledore, and he wanted to be held, and he didn't give a bloody damn if anyone else thought that was stupid.

Remus scratched his ears; Severus sighed and tried to concentrate on the present. _Padfoot... kick the stuff around, in case they come in._ Sirius blew out the candles and swept the debris into a corner, concealing all physical evidence of their spell. Remus shifted Severus gently in his arms, rose, and followed James out the door.

The sunlight on his fur felt wonderful. He wondered idly where the crowd had gone...

"_JAMES?_ James! What the hell—are you all okay? Are you hurt? Sirius! You're covered in blood—" Within seconds they were surrounded by half a dozen Order members. "You are all in huge trouble," Richard continued, after reassuring himself none of them were injured. "What are you doing here? This isn't a game; there are demons out here—"

"Richard!" Remus turned towards the voice and Severus saw Andromeda Tonks sprinting towards them. "Moody's out—he took a curse right in the eye—he said to tell you all the demons have left his perimeter and the Death Eaters are starting to go!"

"They're leaving?" Richard repeated incredulously, his hand still gripping James' shoulder. "Did they call it off or—"

"Moody said he thought something'd fouled up their plan. They sure didn't count on the demons disappearing." Andromeda's eyes widened as she approached. "What in Merlin's name are the kids doing here?"

Severus felt Sirius and James bristle in resentment. _Let it go. We're in it deep enough already._

_But—_

_Let it go, Padfoot._

"I haven't the slightest idea, Andromeda, but we _will _have a talk about this tonight," Richard warned, frowning at them. "Since they are obviously incapable of staying out of trouble, I'll have to ask you to escort them back to Headquarters. Take Caradoc," he added, gesturing to the man at his side, "and report back to Moody."

The Marauders marched between two disapproving gazes back to the public Floo. Andromeda distributed the powder; she noted Severus' presence with a raised eyebrow but fortunately made nothing more of it.

"Order Headquarters!"

* * *

The next few hours were excruciatingly, tediously long. They sat on the drawing room sofa under the supervision of Eleanor Potter, enduring a series of lectures before, after and during dinner. Severus didn't eat. Though he'd only eaten one proper meal in nearly a week, even the thought of food was enough to churn his stomach—and he'd had to threaten Remus with a repeat of the 'covered-in-Quintaped-puke incident' to prevent the werewolf from offering him anymore tidbits.

The painkilling potion was beginning to wear off and he could tell. _All I want to do,_ he said, _is curl up and die. _Though this was an accurate description of how he was feeling, the other Marauders didn't found it at all amusing and went to great lengths to tell him so. After finally convincing them to abandon the issue, he curled up on Remus' lap and refused to move for any reason whatsoever.

They conversed mentally several more times, trying to conjure up a plan more practical than "hope Dumbledore believes us," but Severus kept nodding off and disrupting the connection. Finally James ordered him to just go to sleep.

He obeyed willingly.

* * *

Remus tapped his head. "Wake up," he whispered.

"—what would possess you to leave the Hospital Wing? I thought better of your judgment, James, and—"

Severus yawned and opened his eyes. James—looking impatient, even for a Gryffindor—was receiving another lecture from his father in front of about half the Order. He scanned the crowd: there was Moody, with a bandage over his eye, taking some sort of potion from Ted Tonks; he saw Andromeda, and the Prewetts, and McGonagall... but not Dumbledore.

_Where is he?_ he asked.

"—and where on Earth did you get the cat?" Richard concluded.

_I don't know,_ James replied, _but I'm this close to losing it... _Aloud he said: "Um, we found him."

_It'll all be over in a bit,_ said Remus.

"Well, he has to go back to his proper owner, you know."

Sirius rolled his eyes. _I'm with James. Just one more lecture and—_

At that moment the kitchen door opened and Peter Pettigrew stepped into the room.

"YOU!" Sirius snarled, jumping to his feet. "TRAITOR!" All three Gryffindors drew their wands and James shot a stunner at his former friend. The Order members leapt up as well, firing disarming spells; the hair on Severus' back stood on end as Remus' wand flew by—but Sirius called up a shield over the couch and James threw another stunner at Pettigrew.

"JAMES!" Mrs. Potter shouted. "Stop—"

"_Expelliarmus!_" James' and Sirius' wands flew across the room, one to Moody, one to McGonagall. The Transfiguration Professor narrowed her eyes and snapped: "For Merlin's sake! What is the meaning of—"

Sirius ran forward, his face twisted in rage. Peter drew his wand, widened eyes darting around frantically. He disappeared with a _pop._

"What? He can Apparate?" Richard shouted.

"He can't Apparate here, we added that to the wards!" Moody roared.

Severus' cat-senses, alert to the sudden smell of rodent, told him the truth. Ignoring the pain, he leapt from Remus' arms and chased Peter under an armchair. He heard the sounds of a scuffle above. McGonagall shouted: "He's an Animagus! A mouse... Stop the cat! Change him back!"

Severus pounced. The chair flew back; a flash of blue-white light echoed throughout the room and he was suddenly human again, fighting a human Pettigrew.

In this form the Death Eater had a clear advantage. Pettigrew punched Severus in the gut, doubling him up, then grabbed his blistered wrists and dragged him between the others and himself.

"Don't—don't move!" he shouted to the Marauders and the stunned Order members, backing into a corner. "Don't—or he gets it!" Pettigrew's wand shook as it dug into Severus' neck.

"If you touch _one_ _hair_ on his head..." Sirius snarled. Severus felt the quick, panicked breaths of the traitor on his neck; Pettigrew jerked him around to face Remus and he tried not to wince. He looked up and his eyes widened in astonishment, he'd never seen Moony look so fierce. The werewolf was practically growling as he inched forward. Pettigrew crept further into the corner, eyes fixed on Remus' murderous expression; he didn't see James snatch a wand from the carpet.

_Duck on three, Sev,_ James whispered in his mind._ One, two..._

Severus ducked.

"_STUPEFY!_" James jumped out from behind the sofa; his spell hit Pettigrew's forehead. Peter collapsed backwards, dragging Severus with him. Severus groaned, feeling his head gingerly through blood-stained hair. _I had enough of a headache already..._

The room exploded with movement and conversation; Severus could barely hear the Gryffindors' approach.

"All right, Severus?" He opened his eyes to see Remus kneeling beside him. He opened his mouth to answer—and Richard Potter's wand appeared between his eyes.

"FOR MERLIN'S SAKE!" James shouted, jerking his father's elbow back. The room was instantly silent. "If you—if _any_ of you point a wand at him again I'll snap it myself! Merlin, don't you lot check the _facts_ before throwing teenagers in Azkaban? If you want a Death Eater then _there's _your Death Eater!" he spat, pointing at Pettigrew. "We've put up with enough of your bull tonight and I swear, if it wasn't for Severus you'd still be at Diagon Alley fighting demons! So leave him alone okay?"

Moody cleared his throat and James rounded on him just as quickly. "And if I hear just one more word about us being Confounded I swear I don't know what I'll do!"

Richard frowned and lowered his wand slightly, but Moody rose to his feet despite Andromeda's protests. Severus reached for his wand, it looked like all hell was about to break loose...

Then he heard a quiet knock. The door swung open, revealing Dumbledore in all his gaudily-clothed, bespectacled glory. His eyes scanned the room for a moment, alighting on the Order, Severus, Pettigrew, the Gryffindors, then—twinkling with triumph and a warm joy—returning to Severus, who bit his lip in suppressed hopefulness. The Headmaster didn't seem angry... Dumbledore's smile faded as he assessed Severus' less-than-ideal condition: though Remus' cloak hid most of the damage, he was still bloodied and battered with Richard Potter's wand and Moody's scowl aimed towards his face.

"If what I heard through the door is any indication," Dumbledore said, "we appear to have misjudged this situation quite spectacularly."

Richard lowered his wand. "You think..."

"I think we should hear what your son and his companions have to say." Dumbledore strode forward, ensconcing himself in a faded armchair—showing no concern whatsoever for Pettigrew, who was still sprawled unconscious on the floor. The tension broke and the Order members returned to their seats. The Marauders glanced at each other before resettling on the sofa in a sprawled heap of arms and legs; Severus shivered under the weight of the Order's eyes as he rested against Remus' shoulder.

A cup of tea appeared by his hand. He glanced at Dumbledore and smiled faintly before bringing it to his lips.

"Well," said James, "it all started with Nymphadora's birthday cake..."

* * *

_Gryffindors,_ Severus decided some time later, _cannot tell a story to save their lives._ They rambled on about meaningless trivia while forgetting the important details, and when they did get the facts straight they skipped through time, referring to events that had happened previously or afterwards. It was enough to drive one mad. _Truly the Order is composed of the most capable wizards if they're able to take all this in._

Perhaps his judgment was too harsh, for the adults were certainly caught up in the tale. They listened as James, Sirius and Remus spun the story of the Dark Lord, Pettigrew's betrayal, their escape, the Quintapeds and their vomit, the potion and Animagus transformations, the cave-in and full moon and climb and swim and town and James' plan and Billy's motorcycle. They talked for over a half hour, Severus interrupting once or twice when the incoherence of it all was simply toomuch for any logically-minded Slytherin to take.

The night of the final Quintaped attack—Remus' discovery—they glossed over. Severus was thankful. The Order would learn of his parentage eventually, of course, but that particular night... his initiation into a whole new life... He felt it was rather personal, rather private.

"...so that's how you got to Hogwarts, right?" Andromeda asked. "And then you heard us talking and took off from the Hospital Wing—how you got to Diagon Alley I don't want to know—met up with Snape, and..."

"Um, not exactly." Sirius glanced at Severus and he sighed. _My turn, I suppose. Time for the family history..._

"How many of you know exactly what my father does for the Dark Lord?" he asked bluntly.

"I know that he's in the inner-most ring and I'd give three fingers to have him in Azkaban," Moody sneered.

"There are rumors," Richard interrupted, looking at Moody sharply, "that he is the one behind this business with the demons. Though..." he paused.

"You're correct so far. Keep going."

"Though we have yet to discover how he's raising so many. How it's possible—it's driving whole branches of the Department mad. The only lead we've found isn't practical; we've traced his entire genealogy and there's no hint of irregularity, no raisers, not the slightest hint of demon blood in him. So unless he..." Richard's eyes widened in sudden realization and he stared at Severus as if he'd never seen him before. Severus shifted under his gaze, drawing the cloak more tightly about himself. "Please tell me he didn't."

"He did. Now you see why there is no love lost between the Dark Lord and I."

"Merlin." Richard shook his head. "We never even thought about him using _you_..."

"Actually, Richard," Dumbledore said, looking uncharacteristically apologetic, "you did. But I convinced you to forget—it was too dangerous a road to travel at the moment."

"Could someone please explain?" Andromeda asked. "I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea what you mean."

"I'm half-demon. That's how he's been calling them up."

The room went so silent Severus could hear the owls squabbling upstairs.

Surprisingly—_or not_—Eleanor Potter was one of the first to recover. "James," she said, voice strangled, "get... get away—"

"_Mum!_" James protested. "If he wanted to do us in we'd be dead by now."

Sirius snorted. "I don't think you're helping, mate."

"You three knew already?" Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, stirring another cup of tea.

"I have a magical animagus form," Severus replied. "Remus figured it out." He returned his attention to his tea as James began to explain, more hesitantly and with a faltering tongue, the tale Severus had not heard: how they had read the note, flooed to his father's ruins, found their wands, found _him_. They skimmed over that moment as well, for which Severus was again thankful—then the potion, Diagon Alley, the junk shop, the warding, the demons, the Death Eaters...

"...and then you found us."

The Order was silent. Dumbledore smiled. "I must certainly commend you four," he announced, eyes twinkling. "Not many fifth years could have accomplished what you have—nor many adults, I daresay. Once again it falls to the young to find the way when the old err."

Someone replied, but Severus did not hear. He was suddenly struck by a wave of all-compassing pain, and he knew nothing else. He buried his head in the cushions, waiting for unconsciousness.

"Severus?" Remus whispered.

Another wave, right after the first.

"_Severus?_"

_The potion has worn off,_ he replied. _Maybe... thirty seconds... before I pass out.._

He heard more noises, some talking, a shout—but none of it was comprehendible; he was sliding deeper into the familiar oblivion, the horror of darkness, the loneliness of _gone._

Remus squeezed his shoulder. The pressure broke through his non-responsive senses and lit a flicker of hope somewhere inside him. He was no longer alone. He was not one the darkness would claim. Not today.

* * *

Well, ladies and gentlemen, this is where the original story ended. However, you may be pleased to note that my muse paid no attention to my plans for the original story, and therefore, instead of being the end, this is roughly a fourth of this fic. (Which, plot-wise, actually divides rather nicely into fourths.) I really hope you're enjoying it so far, and I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed for making my days more cheerful, and for inspiring me to continue writing/editing/laughing evily because I know what happens next and you don't, etcetera.

Even if you are not in the habit of usually reviewing, this would be a particularly nice time to let me know what you thought about the whole of "part one", as it were.

And, of course, the questions (for duj and anyone else with a fondness for random surveys):

What was unexpected? What was funny? What was minty-fresh? What was annoying? What should be made into a musical? What shouldn't? What sort of horrible end does Pettigrew deserve? And, of course, what do you think will happen next?

Huggbees! -Viskii

P.S. I have noticed that the website has a tendancyto runmy wordstogether like that occasionally, especially in the A/Ns. If you spot any of these in the actual story, please drop me a note so I can fix it. Thank you very much.


	18. Everyone Needs Someone to Call Them Dear

DISCLAIMER:

Sirius: It's a sing along! Everyone knows "Mary had a little lamb", right?

Severus: What?

Remus: It's a muggle thing.

James: Here we go...!

Harry Potter is not mine, is not mine, is not mine! Harry Potter is not mine, sue me and get a dime.

Sirius: Thank you, thank you.

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to the Society for the Preservation of Evildoers, whose tireless efforts to ensure equal opportunity employment for criminals of all genders, ethnic groups and species should be applauded. Hee hee hee.

Remus: Padfoot, have you been tampering with the Quickedit again?

* * *

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XVII:**

_**Everyone Needs Someone to Call Them Dear**_

_Milk. Bread. Nymphadora's gummy snacks. Lettuce. And whatever we're having for dinner—soup, perhaps? Chicken, or—_

A chime-like tingle of magic rang in Andromeda Tonks' ear. She sighed in relief, dropped the grocery list to the table and started down the hall. _I was starting to think he'd never wake up._

It had been three days since the attack on Diagon Alley and its subsequent revelations—not the least of which had been Snape's involvement in the proceedings—and she was worried. Ted was worried. Albus and the Marauders were worried...

Severus was not recovering properly.

_He should have woken up two days ago. The scars should have healed even faster, and I can only guess what's impeding his recovery._ Andromeda had said as much to Dumbledore yesterday. _We're used to treating torture,_ she recalled saying_, and I'm not sure what else could be the problem. His injuries were obviously aggravated by the Oblivious Potion, over-exertion and the stress of the previous week, and he could certainly stand to gain some weight... but personally, I suspect You-Know-Who's involvement. Who knows what he can do through the Dark Mark? Ted's readied another batch of the Draught and we'll try it on Severus after he's recovered a bit more._

Andromeda glanced through the doorway opposite the sick-room and saw Nymphadora was still occupied with her drawing. She turned and placed one hand on the doorknob, listening... She opened the door.

She and Ted had not considered for one moment that Severus Snape would be a cooperative patient. _He's too used to taking care of himself, too used to short-term fixes and getting up right afterwards..._ So she was not surprised to see that he had activated the sheets, which had been charmed to keep him in bed; slightly more surprising was the intensity of their grip on him. _Looks like a full body-bind—he must have fought the spell._

She tapped the bedcovers with her wand and they relaxed, collapsing into more natural folds around the ashen face of her patient. He was shivering. Andromeda frowned and sat on the bed, muttering a warming charm.

"Hello, Severus. Nice to have you back with us—are you cold?"

He was avoiding her eyes. She seized the moment to appraise him: he still looked fragile and half-starved, but the cuts on his face had healed nicely and he didn't seem to be in pain. His hair was clean, for once; it spread like ink across his face, which was nearly as white as the pillows.

"No." His eyes flickered over the sheets then darted to her face before looking away.

Andromeda found herself agreeing. _He's not cold, but something's upset him—of course, it could be anything or everything that's happened; he's been asleep, he hasn't had time to take it all in._ She decided to try a new strategy: asking directly. _I doubt I'd be able to wheedle answers out of him as easily as from Nymphadora._

"What's wrong, dear?"

His head shot up and he stared at her. "I'm not a _dear._"

"Everyone needs someone to call them dear, dear. What's wrong?"

Severus' eyes scanned her once more and she felt as if some part of herself—a part she hardly recognized—was being studied, evaluated, judged...

"I—I don't like being tied up."

_Oh dear._ "It's just a charm to keep you in bed. It won't do anything unless you try to—" She stopped short. Severus was still watching her, still shivering, and she recognized his expression now—it was fear. It was not fear of the unknown like she saw in Nymphadora or even the other Marauders; whatever he feared, it was something he knew—something he had experienced intimately and would die to avoid. _Something being restrained reminds him of._

"I'm sorry. If you'll promise not to get out of bed, I'll take the spell off completely."

"Please," he whispered. Her heart gave an odd little lurch as she un-spelled the sheets; one she recognized, but certainly hadn't expected to ever associate with Severus Snape. _Though he is being civil—for once_. That in itself indicated how much he must have been effected by recent events.

She remained sitting, waiting for him to make the first move. Waiting for him to ask questions—as she'd assumed he would—to stretch, to yawn, to blink,to do _anything_; but he just lay there, still as marble. After two minutes of this Andromeda could take no more. She laid a hand on his shoulder, inquiring and offering comfort at the same time...

A single, mute tear slid down his face.

Andromeda would later reprimand herself for being so surprised. She should have expected this. She had little experience in adolescent psychology, but it didn't take a professional to realize that a kid with a father who'd raised him for torture, a kid who'd been exposed to You-Know-Who—who'd spied on that monster for years—absolutely had to have emotional issues. _If you can call him a kid at all. He's done more than most adults ever will. _But what surprised her most, what she did not understand, was _why me, of all people? Why would he trust me with this?_

One of the first things she had learned as a healer was that it was, of course, absolutely improper to be involved emotionally with any patient, under any circumstances whatsoever.

One of the first things she had learned as a mother was that healer rules could go hang.

She gathered him into her arms and held him. He was shocked at first, and her heart wondered, with another pang, if he'd ever been hugged before; but he soon relaxed and cried silently into her shoulder for the next ten minutes—ten minutes she figured did him more good than the previous ten years. He sniffed once, the action making him seem years younger, somehow, and looked up at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Better now?"

He nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "Well. Then I imagine—from what I recall of teenage boys—that you wouldn't mind some lunch. I have some potions for you to take as well, and I wouldn't be surprised if you have some company while you eat; there have been quite a few people asking about you."

"Yep, can we come in now?"

Andromeda glanced towards the still-closed door, startled, then laughed. "Yes. How'd you know he was awake?"

The door swung open. "We have our own monitoring system," Sirius said, pointing at Nymphadora, who was busy devouring a chocolate frog.

"Well, then. I'll be along with a tray in a moment, Severus—and if _you _lot want anything you are perfectly welcome in the kitchen," she continued, smiling at the disgruntled look on James' face. She stood up and walked to the door, the Marauders running in to take her place by Severus' side. If they noticed his red eyes, they didn't mention it—and there were far more interesting things for Severus' friends to tell him, anyway.

_His friends,_ Andromeda thought, shutting the door. _It still feels odd to say._

She did not envy their position, she decided, dragging Nymphadora into the washroom to wipe the chocolate from her face. A lot could happen in three days, and they had much to tell him—lots of news, none of it good.

Sirius' mother—it made her hands shake with fury just thinking about it—had formally disowned him, citing his "further involvement in that bloody Order" as the reason. Andromeda had seen it coming, nearly everyone had, but so soon... _He isn't even in fifth year yet! _Sirius passed it off as a joke, but she could see that—though their family's loathing was entirely mutual—he was upset. Who wouldn't be?_ She'd _certainly been upset when the same thing had happened to her so many years ago... but she had been older, and with Ted—_who has always been more than enough_, she thought with a smile. Sirius still had Eleanor and Richard, of course—he might as well have been James' brother, considering how much of the holidays he spent with them—and he had her, _but I'm his cousin, not his mother... and for him to be abandoned by his own family at such a young age..._ It was simply monstrous.

Speaking of monsters, You-Know-Who had been suspiciously quiet since what the press had dubbed the "Diagon Alley Fiasco." There were hints of another plan brewing, but without Dumbledore's seemingly-endless supply of information—most of which, she now realized, had come from Severus—they were blind, and had been forced to adapt the clever strategy of wait-and-see-what-happens.

Severus' father had been more vocal. No less than three Howlers in as many days had tripped the headquarter wards; they'd shouted the most vulgar obscenities and horrendous threats at the front door, spewing sparks and belching black smoke before exploding and spraying Dissolving Fluid or Nightshade Poison on anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. Andromeda thanked Merlin that Severus had been asleep; no one needed to hear that sort of thing, let alone he at whom the slurs were directed. After the first she'd seriously considered modifying Nymphadora's memory and now her daughter wore a selective silencing charm.

And Severus would surely ask what had happened to Pettigrew, and they'd have to explain how—en route to Azkaban after having his memories of the Order wiped—his guards had been intercepted by a dozen Death Eaters who had disappeared with the traitor. Worse, the Ministry's reputation had been substantially tarnished by the Diagon Alley Fiasco, and they needed a scapegoat for that and Pettigrew's escape... Most at the Ministry would accept Albus' word that Severus was innocent, but the boy still needed to watch his back. _Not that his current situation is more dangerous than spying, I suppose._

She leaned over and kissed Nymphadora's chocolate-free forehead. "All done. Go play, sweetie." Andromeda leaned against the doorframe and watched her daughter scamper down the hall—the only resident of 402 Griffin Street who could, at the moment, honestly claim to be carefree. She stifled a laugh as Nymphadora barged into the room currently occupied by the Marauders, wondering when her daughter had grown so fond of the awkward, anti-social Slytherin—_another of those things I keep forgetting to ask Albus. _

* * *

And now, a rebuttal:

Um. Yeah. Okay, I admit it. Chicken-sandwiches-don't-have-bones. -sob-

The rebuttal has now ended.

Sirius: I get to do the questions today! Woo-hoo!

Which Marauder is the most charming, handsome and sexy? -cough, cough- Which Marauder is funniest? Which Marauder is smartest? Which Marauder has the most fantabulous Animagus form? Which Marauder is the most artistic? Which Marauder would make the best use of an inflatable chair? And which Marauder would be most likely to have his own website? On what?

Severus: Well, I believe we've reached a new low as far as pointlessness...


	19. Like Anything In My Life Could Be

DISCLAIMER:

There-was-an-author-had-a-book-and-Potter-was-its-name-o

It's All J K R's:

Fi-Ren-Ze And Mars

Hoo-Ch's Shoot-Ing Stars

And I don't own their names-o...

DEDICATION: I've been asked to announce the opening of the, um... -checks notes- Marauderholic Website. Complete with Fun Facts about how awesome James thinks Lily is, the fandom thinks Severus is... and Sirius thinks Sirius is. Now with special discount on bulk shipments of Save the Werewolves Campaign buttons. (Avaliable in six colors.)

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It Falls to the Young Chapter XVIII:

_**Like Anything In My Life Could Be Considered Boring**_

"I am going to _fail_ this O.W.L.."

"Most probably, if you don't shut up and pay attention. Now, you've got the wormwood and the spleens in—what do you add next?"

Sirius frowned at his textbook. "Ummmmm... rat tails? Six rat tails?"

"Congratulations, Padfoot; you just blew up the dungeons."

Sirius slammed his book shut. "That's hardly a loss."

Severus sighed and fell back against the pillows. James muttered something incomprehensible from the foot of the bed, twiddling his wand absent-mindedly as he scanned yet another roll of parchment. Sirius and a half-dozen towers of precariously balanced textbooks sat on the bedcovers between them.

"Whose idea was it to give practical homework this year, anyway?" Sirius groaned.

"That's the price of using magic over the holidays." James looked up from his parchment. "Are you through with torture-by-Potions yet?"

"Kill me now," Sirius pleaded, jabbing an imaginary dagger into his chest and falling off the bed.

"He's improving slightly," said Severus. "Some of his healing potions would make marvelous poisons. He could become a paid assassin."

"I know who my _first_ victim would be," Sirius snapped, glaring at him from the floor.

"I do wish you'd try to poison me. The result would probably cure cancer or something equally serendipitous."

"_Wingardium Leviosa._" James flicked his wand at the schoolbooks, floating them over Sirius' head; he laughed at the glare he received and directed the books to the floor, where they settled in piles against the wall. "Exploding Snap, anyone?" he offered unenthusiastically. "I am so _bored._ I wish we could go outside and play Quidditch like before."

"Even if the Death Eaters didn't kill us, your mum would," Sirius said. "I envy Remus. He gets a weekly break from this grey monotony." Sirius punched the mattress. "Though I can't say I'd want to visit my _darling_ mother—"

Severus and James exchanged a quick glance. "Why don't you two go have lunch or something?" Severus asked.

"Tired of us already, Sev?"

"Yes."

James and Sirius laughed and closed the door behind them. Severus sank even lower into bed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. He wasn't so tired of the Gryffindors _per se,_ as he was tired of everything. It was bloody irritating. Even a half-hour of cramming basic potions material down Sirius' throat exhausted him. He'd just woken up yesterday, but still. The word "lethargic" did not suit Severus; his mind was not content to lay docile in bed, waiting for Dumbledore's eventual visit and pretending he didn't know about his father's Howlers. Although he had Nymphadora and the Gryffindors for company, it was rather boring. If anything involving Sirius Black could be considered boring.

But now he had a few moments to himself—a chance to catch up on his correspondence.

Severus ran a finger down the books stacked haphazardly on the nightstand: A History of Ventriloquism in Enchantment, Even More Potions for the Superior-Minded Individuals Among Us, The Complete Tales & Poems of Edgar Allen Poe, Select Writings by Mad Alchemists of the Late Eighteenth Century... He stopped at the last, pried it from the pile and flipped to page 42. There was a letter wedged between the pages, written with perfectly ordinary black ink on perfectly boring white parchment, which been delivered the previous evening by a perfectly mundane post owl. It read:

_Severus Snape,_

_Your prior services to myself considered, I feel it unseemly to condemn you to your chosen fate without allowing you the opportunity to reconsider your obviously rash and ill-advised decisions. A week of treachery may be overshadowed by years of devoted service, and I believe you would find your reinstatement in my legions most productive to your health and Gringott's account. If this be your choice, I will give you further allowance in the form of your father—yours, if you like, to torture, maim, kill or simply dominate. I prepare to rule the world, Severus, and I would have you at my side, as my second-in-command: the first imperial demon raiser in two thousand years. _

_I need not mention the consequences if you continue your petty estrangement from myself. I will have you one way or another—at my right hand, or crushed beneath my feet._

_I await your response. Be prompt, Severus._

The missive was not signed; there was no need for a signature. Severus opened his ink well and placed it carefully on the nightstand. He paused a moment, quill at his lips, before scrawling an elegant, two-word reply at the bottom of the parchment. Three taps of his wand later the letter was sealed, warded and flying under the door towards the Order's post box. Severus rolled over and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

Mrs. Potter was shouting. This would have concerned Severus a great deal more if a quick glance into James' mind hadn't revealed his friend—or friends—as the cause of her distress. As it was he groaned and pulled the covers over his head, more concerned about the disruption of his unusually peaceful sleep. Though he hadn't realized her voice could reach such high octaves.

"—RESPONSIBILITY AS YOUR MOTHER—AND WHAT AN EXAMPLE TO SET FOR NYMPHADORA! IF YOU HAVEN'T LEARNED TO TAKE YOU-KNOW-WHO SERIOUSLY BY NOW—"

Severus blinked at the mention of the Dark Lord and raised a finger to trace his left forearm unconsciously. He heard further shouts, than the stomp of feet past his room and the slam of a door. Curiosity peaked, he slid carefully out of bed, pulled on a bathrobe and let his trembling legs carry him to the room next door.

He heard something breakable collide with the wall and decided it would be best to knock. Sirius opened the door, his expression grimmer than usual, and ushered him in. James was sitting against the wall, surrounded by bits of something ceramic and radiating self-pity.

Severus collapsed onto a vacant armchair. "Do I even want to know?"

"That idiot mother of mine," James snarled, "still refuses to let us go outside. And she's grounded me for the rest of the week."

"Well, we _were_ asking for it," said Sirius, looking superiorly nonchalant.

"That's not the POINT! They have no right to keep me locked up like this—how am I supposed to stay on the Quidditch team if I can't even practice?" James glared around the room. "All because of one lousy, stupid newspaper article. Why can't the _Prophet_ mind its own pixie's nest?"

"What article?" Severus asked, instantly alert.

"It was headline news three days ago," Sirius answered. "_HOGWARTS STUDENTS BETRAYED BY CLASSMATE_ and _KIDNAPPED STUDENTS ESCAPE YOU-KNOW-WHO_. Don't worry, they didn't go into much detail and didn't mention you at all—but suffice to say everyone in the wizarding world knows that we were missing and Pettigrew is a scumbag."

James groaned loudly.

"Well, actually," Sirius amended, "everyone already knew we were missing because the Order instituted a search. This just made it even more public, and according to Moody and James' dad more publicity means a larger threat. I'm not thrilled by the idea of being kidnapped again—not that we shouldn't get to go outside once in a while," Sirius added after catching another of James' glares.

"The property is _Unplottable_, Padfoot!" James snapped. "What are the odds anyone would find a way in? Nil! None! Zero! Mum and Dad are getting as paranoid as Moody! Merlin, I wish they'd grow up."

"For Merlin's sake," Severus interrupted. "Listen to yourself, James—if anyone needs to grow up it's you. You're babbling immature nonsense and you know it."

James narrowed his eyes, something Severus recognized from the old days as a danger sign. "If you're only in here to insult me—"

"What did you expect? Sympathy?"

"Perhaps—considering you're supposed to be my _friend_, now," James spat. "What do you think friends are for?"

Severus' eyes glittered. He stood up, strode over to James, stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, then slapped him across the face as hard as he could. That wasn't particularly hard, but it caught James by surprise, and he stared up at Severus in shock, one hand gingerly feeling his cheek.

"What the hell—"

"As a _friend_," Severus hissed, "I am informing you that you are bloody lucky to have parents who care about you enough to worry when you put yourself in danger, however slight. And, also as a _friend,_ I am informing you that you ought to appreciate that, and if you don't, would you mind not rubbing it in my face."

James looked at Severus, then Sirius, then Severus again, and though his mouth was slightly open no words came out. Severus glared at James a moment longer before turning his back on him and stalking back towards the entrance. He paused, suddenly weary, to rest his forehead against the door.

"They're trying to keep you alive, James," Severus whispered. "Be grateful." Before either of the Gryffindors could answer he had shut the door gently and was back in his bed, face buried beneath the pillows.

It was a long time before he fell back asleep.

* * *

"I was surprised to hear from Mrs. Potter that our young Gryffindors were unusually subdued this afternoon."

Severus didn't lift his face from the pillows. _Is there any point wondering how he knows I'm awake...?_

"She said it was very odd," Dumbledore continued cheerfully from his perch on the edge of the bed, "and that James in particular usually puts up quite a protest when disciplined, rarely apologizing as sincerely as he did today. I have noticed that myself. I wonder if you have any theories as to this abrupt change in behavior?"

Severus sneaked a quick glance upwards at Dumbledore. The tip of his long silver beard draped across the bed and his eyes twinkled merrily, sharing their own private joke. "Perhaps Remus talked to him," Severus ventured.

"I would agree with you, Severus, but when I asked Remus' opinion, he seemed to believe that the matter had already been settled before his arrival. He stated quite confidently, in fact, that James had ceased his protests because he saw how much they hurt a dear friend of his."

Severus pursed his lips, caught between embarrassment, relief and annoyance. "Why do you ask me questions you already know the answers to?"

"Why, to tease you, my boy. But that is quite beside the point. The point is how very, very proud of you I am. I cannot tell you how proud," he continued, one hand lifting Severus' chin until their eyes met, "and also how glad I am that you have found friends at last, and hopefully a measure of peace in your life. I daresay, Severus, that your fellow Marauders need you just as much as you need them."

"Pettigrew said you were angry at me," he whispered, clutching the blankets tightly.

"He lied. I must say I never quite allowed myself to believe you had betrayed me. However, I confess that I did not suspect Pettigrew. I believed he had been subjected to a false memory, or perhaps the Imperius curse; as his lies were undetected by my Legilimens I now suspect that he _was_ under Imperius, so that Voldemort could hide his more incriminating memories. The rest of the Order disagreed with me, resulting in your incarnation in Azkaban while I was at the Ministry. No, the only person I am angry at is myself, Severus, for allowing you to come to such harm again. For that I must ask your forgiveness."

Severus' response was to slide out from under the bedcovers and into Dumbledore's open arms. That was the most comfortable spot in the world, nestled between his purple velvet robes and silver hair; if Dumbledore was smiling life couldn't be _that_ bad.

"Your toes are cold, my boy," he said with a chuckle, conjuring socks into existence on Severus' feet. Their wool was striped in red and gold. Severus glared at the socks, then at Dumbledore, who only laughed harder. "Call it a premonition, Severus; you can never have too many socks. Regardless, I suppose I should inform you of the 'official' reason for this visit before the hour slips away completely. There will be an Order meeting in a few days' time. If you recall, you are officially a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and I would appreciate your presence for both the delight it brings me and your extensive experience with our adversaries."

"Of course." Severus paused. "The others...?"

"I believe the Potters have decided—after much debate—to allow James to observe, and we can hardly have one without the others, can we? They did, however, promise to remain quiet and inconspicuous. I would like to take this moment to discourage you from following the same course of action. You have more right than most to speak your mind, and more experience than most guiding your thoughts."

Severus nodded, though he doubted the rest of the Order would agree with this statement. _Moody surely won't..._

"But I have a more personal favor to ask of you, concerning this meeting..." Dumbledore's tone settled onto a more serious level. "I have been dreadfully busy interviewing possible additions to our debilitated intelligence network. Frankly, my boy, it was in tatters to begin with, but you were so competent in your role that it has never been a pressing issue until now. Our best prospect at the moment appears to be a man from the Ministry ranks; he is interested in joining the Order and has completed the intelligence-gathering training conducted by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. During his assignment for the Ministry he successfully infiltrated Voldemort's outer ranks of service, but I need to know whether he can pass as a full-fledged Death Eater, and on that subject I value your opinion as highly as my own. If you think he is capable, both he and I would undoubtedly appreciate any advice you can give him, particularly in the fields of Occlumency and Legilimency."

"Do you trust him?"

"He comes strongly recommended by Mr. Moody and Mr. Potter and his record is spotless. He is too good an Occlumens to trust instinctively, however, so we shall see. I would like your opinion on him after the meeting; he shall be in attendance, as we will not be discussing anything Voldemort cannot guess himself."

Severus nodded his consent once more. Dumbledore was quiet for a long moment afterwards, and Severus was about to fall asleep on his beard when he chuckled softly.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing, Severus. Nothing... though I did have strict instructions from Andromeda to keep you awake for dinner. She was not at all pleased that you slept through lunch." He chuckled again. "Though it seems this old man is having trouble with even the simplest directions today. Back to bed with you now; Andromeda will be in any minute with your dinner."

Severus slipped back under the covers. His fingers locked with the Headmaster's briefly before Dumbledore rose to leave. "Take care of yourself, Severus," he said. Dumbledore tipped his hat, whirled smartly about on his buckled boot, and Disapparated.

* * *

Yay for the chapter. Warm fuzzy feelings for the chapter. Huggbees for all!

Chapter questions:

What was off-key? What character was best and why? What reminded you of eels? What was riddle-ish? What was foreshadowed? What character was worst and why? And what about the vegetables...?


	20. Why One Should Maintain an Extremely

DISCLAIMER: Ahem. Harry Potter... -author screams and falls to the floor, covered in a mob of WB and JKR secret-service dudes-

"You are under arrest. Put your hands up and drop the Half-Blood Prince."

"-isn't mine! I was gonna say _isn't mine!_"

DEDICATION: This chapteris dedicated to Poptarts of every nationality. And to my reviewers. Because I love them all. And you all. Why don't we just get on with it...?

Huggbees!

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter XIX:**

**_Why One Should Maintain an Extremely Well-Stocked Supply of Rare Potions Ingredients_**

Severus sat up, drenched in sweat and clutching his forearm with pale fingers. The Dark Lord was summoning his followers, and it was unnerving how strong the compulsion to _come, come, come_ remained. He bit his lip, looked down at the angry black mark on his arm, and transformed into Skittles. The pain was muted slightly beneath his fur, and he prowled restlessly around the hills of bedcovers, trying to ignore it.

The morning sun shone brightly through the curtains—_I've slept late again_—and Severus wondered why the Death Eaters were being summoned at ten o'clock in the morning. Such an early summons was rare, though not unheard of. His pace and heartbeat quickened as the mark continued to throb. Soon he was running in desperate circles around the room—under the bed, through the chair legs and over the textbooks—hoping exertion or exhaustion would keep his mind off the pain.

The Dark Mark was more painful than most believed. It was not intended to simply inform the bearer that the Dark Lord was waiting, but to forcefully brand the notion into every Death Eater's mind that the Dark Lord held the power over comings and goings, life and death. It was more like a concentrated Cruciatus than anything else... _and it's lasting far too long. Who is he waiting for?_ Severus stopped mid-stride with the sudden realization that _he could be waiting for me._ The thought so horrified him that he redoubled his pace, leaping across the carpet with a panicked stride. He heard noises outside the door but did not pause to listen.

Footsteps... _under the chair, around the bed_... someone was arguing... _over the bed, turn the corner_... The door opened and he slammed nose-first into James Potter's leg.

"Severus? What the—what are you doing?"

Severus remained in a panting heap on the floor. _What are you doing?_

"I came in to talk to you." James shut the door and sat down on the floor beside him. "Sirius and Remus wanted—I mean... I... wanted to patch things up. After last night—I'm sorry."

Severus wrenched his mind away from the pain, trying to focus on the conversation. _This conversation. About last night. Yes. Um... okay._

"Now, if you could change back and tell me why exactly you were running around like Padfoot was after you?"

Severus transformed and was shocked to find the experience painful. He stayed on all fours and bit his lip to keep from crying out; obviously, his Animagus form muted the mark's effects far more than he'd imagined.

"Severus? What happened?" James knelt beside him, looking nervous.

"I've just had a horrible thought," Severus whispered. "I wonder..." He pulled up his sleeve and was not surprised to see blisters forming on his burnt skin. "I wonder if he can control these individually..."

James' eyes widened as he took in the charred flesh and inflammation that was slowly consuming Severus' forearm. "Is that normal?"

"No. It's never lasted half this long before..." Before Severus could finish James grabbed his other arm and jerked him to his feet.

"We're getting Andromeda. Now." He kicked the door open. "ANDROMEDA!"

* * *

All was normal at the breakfast table. That meant Ted was surveying the _Prophet_, Remus was having cornflakes _again,_ and Sirius was teaching Nymphadora how to blow super-sized bubbles in her milk.

"Sirius, she picks up enough bad habits from you without you intentionally corrupting her," Andromeda said. Sirius flashed her a brilliant grin before going right back to the lesson. Andromeda rolled her eyes, nicked the front page from her husband and got as far as the headline—"GILROY LOCKHART SAVES YET ANOTHER HELPLESS VILLAGE"—before she was interrupted by a shout.

"ANDROMEDA!"

It was James. She sprung from her seat and stuck her head through the doorway—_he'd better not be crying werewolf_—just in time to see him round the corner, dragging Severus in his wake. Severus, who had been looking so much better, was pale and trembling and slightly wild-eyed; James pushed him forward and his sleeve shifted, revealing the Dark Mark and the horror it was inflicting on his arm.

Andromeda took one look and pulled Severus the rest of the way into the kitchen. "Ted! Ted, get over here. Remus, go get my medical bag, it's in the library on the green armchair. Run!" She prodded Severus into a chair, kneeling to examine his arm more closely.

"Severus? What's—"

"Now is _not_ the time, Sirius!" Andromeda snapped. She looked up at her husband. "Ted, do you think...?"

"Now's as good a time as any," he answered, already holding a scoop of Floo powder. "Yes. I'll go get what's not in your bag. Murray Road!" Flames flared up in the fireplace and Ted disappeared, just as Remus returned with her satchel.

Andromeda snatched it from his hands, charmed it open and started pulling out potions. "How long has it been burning?"

"I-I don't know," Severus stammered. "Twenty minutes? Half an hour?"

"Which one of you lot is best at Potions?" The Gryffindors turned as one to look at Severus. Andromeda sighed. "I meant _besides_ Severus, obviously."

"Um, probably me, then," said Remus. "Though I'm not—"

"You'll do fine," Andromeda interrupted. She began shoving bottles into his hands. "Now, _this_ is chickweed extract, _this _is henbane, and _this_ is medical base number nine. Get measuring cups from the drawers and mix one part chickweed to three parts henbane to ten parts base. Accuracy is more important than speed. I want a bowlful." Andromeda's eyes flickered across the table. "Nymphadora, go find Mrs. Potter and stay with her."

"But _Mummy_..."

"I'm working, Nymphadora; I don't have time to argue. If you want to help Severus then go find Mrs. Potter." Nymphadora scowled but left the kitchen. "Sirius, get over here. Severus, take off your shirt." Using a pair of tongs Andromeda pulled a lead-capped vial from her bag and charmed it open. Little wisps of dark grey smoke curled out the top. She turned and waited as James helped Severus pull off his shirt. Sirius stood at her right, twitching his feet and hands in impatient anxiety. "Remus, how are you coming along?"

"I've got the base in a bowl and I'm adding chickweed."

"Good." She gently shifted the tongs to her left hand and drew her wand. "James, Sirius, I need you to hold him down. Severus, this is not going to be pleasant." The Gryffindors took their positions and Severus opened his mouth, presumably to say something sarcastic, when Andromeda overturned the vial onto his arm.

She was shocked he did not scream. Severus merely whimpered, an oddly pathetic sound, as his entire body went rigid and tears leaked from behind his tightly clenched eyes. Andromeda kept her focus on his arm, where the innocent-looking potion was eating through his skin like acid. As soon as a portion stopped smoking, she was there with her wand and the charm for temporary stabilization. Two minutes later the worst of the ordeal was over and Andromeda allowed herself to relax slightly.

"Remus, I need that solution now." As he carried the bowl over Andromeda checked Severus' pulse with her wand. It was slightly faster than usual; she frowned and felt his skin. _Cold. Sweaty. _He was barely conscious; James and Sirius were holding him up rather than down. "Remus, look through my bag for some Blood-Replenishing Potion. Severus, you have to stay awake. Do you hear me?"

He muttered something incomprehensible.

"James, Sirius—talk to him, slap him, do whatever it takes to keep him awake until the anesthetic kicks in, otherwise we run the risk of overdose. _Ligamentum!_" Andromeda conjured up a long roll of bandages, which she soaked in Remus' potion then began to wrap around Severus' arm.

"Severus? Severus, she said you have to stay awake. SEVERUS!" Sirius shouted.

"Mm'm awake."

"Not by much. Talk to me. Try to guess what number I'm thinking of," James suggested.

"Mmm."

"That's not a number. You aren't even listening. Come on, Severus, or we'll have to resort to desperate measures." Sirius received no response, so he cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted as loud as he could in Severus' ear: "_QUINTAPED!_"

Severus jerked upright, momentarily alert; his eyes searched the room wildly until they settled on Sirius where they stopped and glared.

Sirius shrugged. "It worked."

Andromeda finished the bandaging with a quick flourish of her wand and took the Blood-Replenishing Potion from Remus. She held the vial to Severus' lips, letting him drink about half the contents before replacing the lid and returning it to her bag. As she did so she heard the _whoosh_ of the Floo and turned towards the fireplace...

Ted stepped out, covered in soot; but his hands were lacking the potions she'd expected them to bring and his face told her immediately that something had gone horribly wrong.

"They broke into the lab," he said. "Everything is gone, and what's left is destroyed. Potions, cauldrons, ingredients, research notes, desks, light fixtures—everything either stolen or ashes. The only intact thing in the place was the Dark Mark on the wall."

Andromeda bit down hard on her lower lip.

"I sent a message to Dumbledore," Ted continued, "but it doesn't look like that's our immediate problem." He looked pointedly at Severus' arm.

"What do you mean?" James asked.

"I started this," Andromeda said, "expecting that I'd have the tools to finish it." She looked up at Severus. "This is an experimental procedure, anyway. It's one hundred percent sound in theory, but we've never actually succeeded because one quirk of this first potion is that the body becomes tolerant to it extremely quickly. So we've only got one shot, and unless any of you happen to have an extremely well-stocked supply of rare potions ingredients..." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Yes."

Andromeda snapped her head up to look at Severus again. "What?"

"I said yes, I have an extremely well-stocked supply of rare potions ingredients."

"Moonstone?" asked Ted. Severus nodded. "Boomslang skin? Powdered Bicorn horn? Sweet marjoram? Vervain? Aconite? Unicorn horn?" Ted grew more and more excited as Severus kept nodding. "Standard A-level bases three through six?"

"One through fourteen."

"Phoenix tears?"

"I'm on good terms with the Headmaster, aren't I?"

Ted laughed, worry lines dropping away from his face one by one. Andromeda loved his laugh: a deep, rolling chuckle that spread from his toes on up. "Well, let's see this amazingly maintained potion cupboard of yours," he said. "And then Andromeda and I can see about getting rid of that mark permanently."

"Permanently? Wait—but—you mean—_permanently?_ I thought—I was told that was impossible. That it couldn't be removed..." Severus' face lit up with barely restrained hope. James and Sirius pulled him to his feet where he swayed unsteadily; Ted frowned and picked Severus up, his tree-trunk arms barely noticing the weight.

"That's what they'd like us to think," she heard him explaining as they started down the hall. "But our research suggests it can be done. We've attempted removal on two captured Death Eaters, but they were already too far gone. You-Know-Who apparently uses the Dark Mark to keep his followers in line as well as summon them, and if he thinks they're about to reveal information... he tortures them to death through the mark, and we can't question them. Which is why we started researching this in the first place."

"Not that you're going to die," Andromeda added after seeing Remus' horrified face.

"Obviously. He has no reason to kill me," Severus replied. "I'm sure he's told them to bring me in alive."

Ted paused in front a door. "In the cellar, then? Do you have a password?"

"Meticulous."

The door swung open. Ted descended the stairs and the others trooped behind. Looking around, Andromeda noted that the room seemed to have been vacated in a hurry; open books and papers were strewn about the desk, which also held a cauldron half-full of something that looked suspiciously like liquid mold. Ted lowered Severus to the unmade bed; once there he pointed to an open trunk set against the wall.

"It's in there. A brown case, heavier than it looks."

Remus and Sirius hoisted the battered case out of the trunk and onto the table, sneezing as parchment and a thin layer of dust flew everywhere. Andromeda wrinkled her nose and proceeded to hit everything in sight with a _Scourgify _while Ted floated the table next to the bed and conjured up more chairs. Soon they were gathered around, labors completed, and Sirius asked a question that had been nagging Andromeda as well:

"Excuse my skepticism, Sev, but even with shrinking charms, how the heck could you fit all that stuff into one looks-like-it's-going-to-fall-apart-any-second suitcase?"

Severus smiled, running his fingers down the cracked leather in a subtle caress. "Now, now, Sirius—don't be doubting my friend here. This," he said, looking fondly at the case, "is the only thing I own of any value, sentimental or otherwise. It was my very first present, too—from our esteemed Headmaster himself. Observe."

Severus stuck his pinky finger into the keyhole and turned. For half a second Andromeda felt the pressure of a thousand charms, hexes and curses, all radiating outwards—_how many spells does he have on this thing?_—but then the sensation vanished and Severus flipped open the lid's tarnished silver latch. The case flipped out and up and open at a shocking speed, unfolding in about fourteen different directions as if to mock muggle tackle boxes for their simplicity. Inside were rows upon rows of tiny glass vials, all lined up in strict military order against the blue velvet interior. Accompanying these at seemingly random intervals were boxes, both crystal and opaque; a collection of regular-sized flasks lined the bottom, dwarfing their miniature cousins above. All in all the case probably contained a thousand pieces of glassware, every vial of which contained shimmering, jewel-bright liquids or dirty grey powders or other miniaturized materials she could not put a name to.

"Wow," said Remus.

"Yeah, I think that about sums it up," Sirius agreed.

James leaned over to peer at the vials closely. "But almost none of them have labels. How can you tell where everything is without unshrinking it all?"

"You're following Artephius' configuration to a point, right?" Ted asked. "These here—most of those on this side, actually—look like they're in sequence."

"To a point. You are correct in that these," Severus indicated the general right half of the case, "hold ingredients, arranged by Artephius—that's classification by properties including rarity, density, flammability and magicality," he added for the Gryffindors' benefit. "Though I've mixed in a few he didn't include. The other side contains standard, toxic and medical bases in the middle; the bottom holds preps for potions I find myself brewing all too frequently, and on the top is the completed arsenal: Veritaserum, Anti-Cruciatus, Exploding Fluid, Dreamless Sleep, Draught of the Living Death, Felix Felicis, Polyjuice, various antidotes and poisons, etcetera."

Andromeda glanced at Ted, who was eying Severus speculatively, and could tell he was impressed. "Well then," she said, "we need to get to work. James, go upstairs and tell your mother what's happened and that Albus should be arriving momentarily."

Ted began pulling vials from the case. "And if one of you would unshrink these, and the other fetch me two cauldrons, a medium-height scale and a mortar and pestle from the shelf over there, I would be much obliged." He peered closely at a flask of lacewing flies then looked up at Andromeda. "I thought we'd brew the valerian-porcupine quill solution first..."

"Whatever you say, love. You're the Potions master."

Severus drummed his fingers on the table. "Anything I can do?"

"You've done quite enough already, dear," she replied. "Just rest and try not to move your arm too frequently; I'd rather not have you bedridden another four days from overexertion now."

Ted chuckled. "That's it, just relax and enjoy the indescribable pleasure that is our company."

"Relax? With that lot in such close proximity to even the most remotely combustible ingredients?"

"I'll keep a disapproving eye on them," Ted promised. "Now, Sirius—do you know how to dissect a caterpillar?"

* * *

Happy chapter, everybody! Sorry it took so long to update; blame an overnight stay with interviews at a college that might be giving me a super-duper giant scholarship I want to get my grubby little hands on... -wink-

Anyway, here's the questions:

What was best? What was worst? What was iron-clad? What was funny?What reminded you of silly-putty? What needs to be served with syrup? What would each Marauder do with this chapter if he read it? And can you sing the lyrics to "I'm a tugboat call me Mel"...?


	21. Magic and Wizards and Dragons and

DISCLAIMER: Argh. -dodges rotten fruits- I apologize for the atrociously long wait between updates. -dodges more fruits- I don't really have too great an excuse, except that life and/or depression can be an _expletive deleted_ sometimes. Bleh. I need a smoothie. -Reviewers are sympathetic and hand her a smoothie- Ah. Thank you. On that same note, I apologize for not being so diligent as usual in answering your wonderful reviews. But know I treasure them all the way an English major treasures metaphors. (Mmmm, metaphors.) And FYI: I'm not JKR in disguise. Sorry.

DEDICATION: This chapter's dedicated to isabelle, because I read her really nice review and started feeling all bad about not updating. So huggbees for her!

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter XX:**

**_Magic and Wizards and Dragons and Princesses and Everybody Lives Happily Ever After The End_**

_Very, very, very, very, very, very bored. Bored, bored, bored. _

"Bored, bored, bored," Nymphadora repeated aloud, just in case that made life more interesting. It didn't.

She had drawn five pictures, played Deep Dark Cave beneath the bed, built a Hogwarts castle out of Remus' textbooks, tied all of Sirius' socks together, had a long conversation with Kitty and counted to a hundred _twice_. And Mrs. Potter was still talking.

Something interesting was going on. Something interesting was always going on whenever Professor Albus came, and whenever Professor Albus came someone always told Nymphadora to go play somewhere else. And Severus—Sev-ER-us, not Sev-RUS, which she knew now because she was six and a big girl—was hurt and she didn't know if he was okay. Mrs. Potter said he was, but she didn't sound very sure. And now Mrs. Potter was talking to Professor Albus in the library with the door open; they would catch Nymphadora if she tried to go see Severus but she still needed to know if he was okay.

She sighed and flopped backwards on James' bed. It wasn't fair at _all._

Kitty was bored too.

"What do you want to do, Kitty?"

Kitty wanted to play Treasure-Hunting.

"Okay. Where do you think the treasure is?" She slid off the bed onto James' school trunk. "Ohhh, look—a treasure chest. Open it, Kitty! _Alamo-hora!_"

Using both hands, Nymphadora was just able to pry open the lid. It fell back onto the bed, narrowly missing Kitty's tail.

"Hmm. You know what this could be? This could be the _Hidden Treasure of Merlin!_ Let's see..." Nymphadora leaned deep into the trunk, digging through its contents.

"Here's some secret old magic books..." Fantastic Creatures and Where to Find Them joined Intermediate Transfiguration and Quidditch Through the Ages in an undignified heap on the floor.

"And here's the—gasp—the Evil Quill of Bad Evilness, _oh no_... and Merlin's favorite set of Gobstones... Look, Kitty! Royal Princess Quidditch Gear!"

Three minutes later Nymphadora was covered in a variety of oversized Quidditch equipment and preening in front of the bathroom mirror. "Now the Royal Highness Princess Nymphadora will go give a speech to the people!" But not yet. Something wasn't right.

Kitty knew what was wrong: she needed a cloak.

Nymphadora was standing on James' bed preparing to pull off the sheets when she spotted an even better cloak in the treasure chest. As she pulled it out her eyes sparkled in delight; it was so soft, and so shiny silver...

"Look at how pretty I am in this shiny cloak." Nymphadora hummed contently, wrapping her treasure around her shoulders as she headed back to the bathroom to admire herself.

Needless to say, she was quite surprised to see only her head floating in the mirror.

After a few minutes of experimentation Nymphadora decided to attempt a breakout with her new cloak. _I have Quidditch armor so I should be safe_, she reasoned. The door hinges squeaked as she tiptoed into the hallway, so she decided to leave the door open. That was just as well, because halfway to her destination she realized Kitty was still sitting on the treasure chest. After retrieving her companion, she tiptoed carefully past the library for the third time and continued into the kitchen.

There was no one there.

_Think, Nymphadora. What would Melina Moon, Unspeakable Investigator do?_ Dad had read Nymphadora all twenty-three _Melinda Moon_ books, and Melinda's owl Cato—who was secretly an Animagus spy for the bad guys until he fell in love with Melinda and renounced all evil, as detailed in book seventeen—always gave her the same advice: look for Clues.

_Look for Clues. Clues, Clues, Clues..._ There were actually quite a few. Five half-eaten breakfasts remained on the table, cold and hard. There was soot on the floor. One of the dining chairs was pulled out from the table and surrounded by assorted objects, including a bowl full of something gooey that Nymphadora knew was probably a potion and therefore a Promised-Not-To-Touch, which made investigating it more difficult.

Unfortunately, none of the Clues made sense. So Nymphadora decided to go look for Severus where he'd always been before: in the cellar. She heard voices through the open door and tiptoed down the stairs _sneakily _like Melinda would.

Severus was in the cellar. So were Mummy, Daddy, Sirius, Remus and James. Mummy and Daddy were cooking a potion, and Sirius and James and Remus seemed to be helping. Severus was on the bed behind them and Nymphadora couldn't tell if he was awake or not. _But I can tiptoe super sneakily around and see._

She made it to the table without incident and would have been perfectly fine had Sirius not chosen that precise moment to stand up with a large beaker of something in his hands. Her eyes widened; she tried to back away but tripped on the cloak, a collision seemed imminent...

"STOP!" Severus shouted. All activity in the room froze. "Don't move, Sirius; you're about to trip over Nymphadora," he finished hastily. _Did the magic invisibleness wear off?_ she wondered.

"Nymphadora?" Daddy exclaimed, twisting in his seat. "Where?" _No, Daddy can't see me, but Severus sure can._ He was looking right towards her, index finger beckoning her forward. Nymphadora sighed. _I'm in big trouble now._ She climbed onto the bed beside Severus, who pulled the cloak off her head and seemed startled by her appearance.

"Nymphadora!" Mum said. "Why aren't you with Mrs. Potter?"

"Hey, that's my Quidditch gear!" James interrupted. "She's got my Quidditch gear!"

Severus continued to stare at her, one eyebrow raised. "Care to explain?"

"I wanted to see if you were okay but Mrs. Potter said no. Then me and Kitty searched for the _Hidden Treasure of Merlin_ in the treasure chest, and that's where we found the magic cloak of invisibleness and the Royal Princess Quidditch Gear—" Severus' face began contorting into odd shapes. "Are you okay?" she asked in her most concerned voice.

That was too much. Severus fell back onto the bed and burst out laughing. Remus and Sirius and Dad laughed too, and even Mum couldn't keep herself from joining in. James alone was scowling, arms crossed in defiance. "It wasn't _that_ funny," he protested.

"R-Royal—Princess—Quidditch—Gear—" Sirius choked out before succumbing to another laughing fit.

Ten minutes later the potion-making continued to progress as before, excepting that Nymphadora was now curled up at Severus' side—minus the cloak of invisibleness and a half-dozen pieces of sporting equipment—and Severus still snickered uncontrollably every time Sirius mentioned Quidditch.

She had not heard Severus laugh before. It was an interesting sound, not unpleasant, like bells choked with dust from a long lack of use. She suspected that his laughter had contributed to her amazingly fortunate not-in-trouble state of existence.

Nymphadora stifled a yawn. It was warm in the cellar, from the fires blazing beneath the mantel and cauldrons. Mum had said she could stay as long as she didn't disturb Severus, but he didn't seem to be doing anything she could disturb; in fact, she'd heard Mum tell him specifically not to do anything whatsoever, just to rest. _How can you disturb someone who isn't doing anything?_

But there was one thing Severus _could_ do without doing anything whatsoever, and that was talk in her mind. He'd only done that in her dream before, and Nymphadora thought it was the neatest thing since chocolate frogs. She yawned again.

_Tired, Nymphadora?_

She had gone to bed a little bit later than she was supposed to. Or maybe it had been really later. _It might have been really later,_ she admitted.

_Maybe you should go to sleep then,_ he suggested, a hint of his amusement tickling her mind.

That actually didn't sound too bad. She could sleep here; Severus would keep the tall dark mask-monsters away like he had in her dream. Nymphadora nodded slightly. _Okay. Now tell me a bedtime story._

_Excuse me?_

_A bedtime story! How can anyone go to sleep without a bedtime story?_

Nymphadora waited through almost a whole minute of barely endurable silence before Severus answered. _What kind of story?_

_Oh, one about magic and wizards and dragons and princesses and everybody lives Happily Ever After The End._

_Hmmm. Well then. Once upon a time in a faraway castle called... Hogwarts, there lived a princess named Nymphadora Tonks..._

* * *

Severus heard, from what felt like a far distance, the familiar chime of the cellar clock acknowledging midnight. Less familiar were the light, gentle snores of the pillow on his right. And he didn't recall _ever_ encountering a pillow with pigtails.

He reached into his sleeve for his wand and discovered he was wearing pajamas. Groping blindly towards the nightstand, Severus' fingers found their accustomed grip on the birch wood. "_Lumos,_" he whispered. A tiny speck of light flared at the tip of his wand—just enough to see in the dark.

He was indeed in the cellar. The snores came from Nymphadora, not a pillow, and instead of a table covered in potions there was an armchair in the middle of the room, upon which Ted Tonks slept soundly enough to put Moony to shame. _I remember... Nymphadora and a story and I must have fallen asleep._ A thought struck Severus: his arm, where he'd searched for his wand... it was no longer bandaged. _Did they finish? Did it work?_ He sat unmoving for a moment, wondering if he dared hope—then ripped his sleeve up and shone his wand on... his skin.

Just his skin. Raw and tingling, a bit swollen—but still skin. _No Dark Mark._

He was in awe. In awe of whatever kind fate had granted him this one, glorious moment he'd never dared wish for. A tear slid down his cheek and Severus noted absent-mindedly that he'd cried more in the past two weeks then in the past two years. _Dumbledore would probably approve,_ he decided with a tolerant grin and roll of his eyes. He'd smiled more, too. And laughed... _Nymphadora made me laugh. I suppose I owe her one—Royal Princess Quidditch Gear, indeed._

_Hmmm? Severus?_

He noticed too late that the snores had ceased. _Go back to sleep, Nymphadora. _

_I don't think you ever finished my story._

_I did; you just fell asleep. The wizard and the dragon tied the chess match, Princess Nymphadora started up a shelter for stray kneezles, the castle was saved, and they all lived Happily—_

_—Ever After The End. _

_Yes. Now go back to sleep._

_Severus? You tell really good stories._

He blinked. _Well, that's not something I was previously aware of._

_You should tell that one to Sirius. He likes stories too._

Severus cringed. _No, I think actually this one should stay between you and me. Purple-spotted unicorns and all._

_Really? Like a secret? We could have a secret club! We could call it Nymphadora and Severus' Secret Club Keep Out That Means You. Except I think we should let Sirius in. And Remus and James. And Kitty. And Professor Albus. And maybe Mum and Dad if they want..._

_Why don't we stick with just this one secret. That might be too many for me to take._

_Hmmm—okay._

Nymphadora was quiet for an extraordinarily long time. Severus assumed she was asleep and was attempting to drop off himself when she continued:

_But I have to tell you a secret too otherwise it isn't fair._

_Go ahead._

_It's a big secret. I've never told anyone before. Promise not to tell Mum and Dad? Super-double potion-bubble erumpent-trouble promise?_

_I promise._

_Good because it is Not Allowed. Mum and Dad say it's against the rules to do magic like you until I go to Hogwarts._

_You'd need a wand, anyway, _he reminded her.

_That's why this secret is so secret. Cause I can do magic on purpose, and I don't have a wand._

Severus sat up and stared at the six-year-old in front of him. There was no hint of deceit in her mind. _What kind of magic?_ he asked, chancing a bit more light from the _Lumos_ spell.

_Just one kind. But it's a lot of fun for dress-up. See?_ Nymphadora clenched her eyes shut and he could feel her concentrating; he heard a distinct _pop_ and the girl in front of his eyes was now sporting long, red, curly hair instead of brown pigtails.

Nymphadora Tonks was a Metamorphmagus.

* * *

Oy. Hope you enjoyed it! (I rather like this chapter.) One final announcement: none of my reviewers, apparently, know the lyrics to "I'm a tugboat call me Mel." Shame on you. The first person to guess right wins... uh... some extra oxygen or something. I'll fax it to you.

The Stupid Questions:

What was funny? What was gooey? What would look good at a wedding reception? What would be hardest to import into Tokyo? How would this chapter be different if it was set in Antarctica? Is Nymphadora cool or what? And what do you think will happen next...?

Huggbees, all.

P.S. Almost forgot to add: I did, I did get my grubby little hands on the scholarship... -snickers evilly and retreats into background, rubbing hands together-


	22. Second Star to the Right and Straight on

DISCLAIMER: Still not mine.

DEDICATION: To Carol J, for so kindly emailing me to see if I'm okay. This one's for you, girl.

Re: the not-updated situation: I have excuses. Some are very good and reasonable, some aren't. So let's just get on with the chapter, shall we?**

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXI: 1516**

_**Second Star to the Right and Straight on Till Morning**_

Severus Snape woke up feeling... cheerful.

It was an extraordinary sensation, as though happiness was bubbling through his veins instead of oxygen. He could not recall ever waking up in such a good mood.

He was free. Free from his father, free from the Dark Lord's brand, free from the Cruciatus curse. Free to have the friends he'd wished for during his first ride on the Hogwarts Express...

He was full of bubbling energy, and he could do whatever he wanted with it. He could spend all morning reading, or getting James' help on his Transfiguration homework, or playing Exploding Snap, or seeing if Skittles could fly indoors, or brewing whatever he felt like and letting it blow up in his face just for the sheer thrill of it.

Slowly and carefully Severus untangled himself from the bedcovers, trying not to wake Nymphadora, whose hair was its usual brown once again. It had taken surprisingly little time to convince her that Metamorphmagus magic _was_ allowed before Hogwarts; she was going to tell the others sometime today and Severus certainly planned on being present to view their reaction.

After lighting his wand he stepped quietly past Ted and knelt beside his school trunk. _Ted Tonks. There is an interesting character, _he thought as he pulled on his trousers. The man was quiet, unassuming, laughed easily and often—but behind his simple exterior lay the mind of a Potions master Severus could not help but respect. Before Nymphadora's arrival they had discussed the practicalities of removing the Dark Mark in great detail, and Severus had enjoyed the novelty of holding a potions-related conversation without having to explain every single point he made. Nor had Ted lectured him; he seemed to know from Severus' questions—or perhaps some sixth sense—what needed to be explained and what didn't.

Severus rummaged through the depths of his trunk. He found the shirt and robe he was looking for at the very bottom—clothes he hadn't worn in three years because they had short sleeves. And they weren't black, but dark blue and green respectively... _Color seems appropriate today._

He heard a yawn and the rustling of fabric. "Severus?"

_Shhh. Your dad's asleep,_ he replied, buttoning his shirt.

_Are you going upstairs? I'm coming too. _Nymphadora hopped down to the floor, tapped her foot impatiently for the seven seconds it took Severus to toss on his robe, then scampered up the stairs behind him.

When they entered the kitchen Severus was surprised to see no one else around—until he glanced at the clock. "Merlin, it's only four-thirty; no wonder everyone's still in bed. I suppose that's what we get for sleeping thirteen hours straight."

Nymphadora glanced around curiously. "What do we do now?"

* * *

Sirius Black was awakened at the unholy hour of seven in the morning when Andromeda yanked the blankets off his bed. "Gerroff," he growled into his pillow. His cousin responded by opening the window curtains and letting the sun shine straight into his eyes, which was even worse.

"Attention, you lot: I have just been informed by the Headmaster that the Order meeting is being held tonight. There's going to be a multitude of people here and the house is filthier than a hag's den—we'll be lucky to get it clean by midnight, let alone six o'clock. I want all of you dressed and downstairs eating breakfast in ten minutes," she said.

"Can't we just shoot off a _Scourgify _or two?" James moaned.

"That's not going to cut it this time; it's been months since the place had a good scrubbing. I'll see you downstairs." Sirius heard the door click shut. With a Herculean effort—and despite Remus' chatter, which was far too positive for this time of day—he managed to drag himself to the wardrobe and throw on some clothes that were most likely his.

"Maybe Mum will have mercy on us," James hoped. Sirius grunted, raked his fingers through his hair twice and decided he was presentable.

They headed downstairs and were happy to see breakfast already laid out for them: eggs and toast and bacon, not the usual cold cereal provided when the adults were too busy to cook. Sirius was thoroughly occupied with wolfing down the still-warm fare, half-listening as Remus and James talked about the upcoming meeting, when Mrs. Potter entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, boys. Andromeda told me you'd volunteered to tidy the house."

"We didn't volunteer, we _were_ volunteered." James downed a swig of orange juice. "Good breakfast, by the way."

"Not my doing," she said, sitting down, "though I certainly agree with you. It was probably Andromeda. I hope your father gets home in time to enjoy it; he's been out all night..."

"I probably what?" Andromeda asked, heaving a huge bucket of cleaning materials into the room. "Mmmmm, that smells good, Eleanor. Have any of you seen Ted?" She disappeared back into the hall before anyone could reply. Sirius was buttering his fourth piece of toast when she reappeared with an exhausted Mr. Potter, who ruffled James' hair and swooped down to kiss his wife on the cheek before settling in the chair next to her.

"Looks delicious, Eleanor."

"Thank you, but I didn't—"

"Ted!" Andromeda exclaimed as her husband stepped through the doorway. "There you are—have you seen the Doxycide anywhere?"

"I hid it in that old vase in the bathroom to keep Nymphadora from playing with it." Ted grinned at Sirius and snagged a piece of toast from the table. "Ah, a hot breakfast. Just what a man needs in the morning." He winked at Mrs. Potter and Andromeda smacked him with a dishtowel.

"For the last time, I didn't cook it!" Mrs. Potter said rather loudly, dropping her fork to the table. Sirius glanced at his plate then at the other occupants of the room. _Then who...?_

"That reminds me," Ted murmured. "Have any of you seen Severus and Nymphadora this morning?"

"They—they weren't with you?" Andromeda looked down the table. "No one's seen them?"

"I'm sure they're here somewhere," said Mr. Potter. He shot the Marauders a glance Sirius interpreted as go-find-them-before-she-panics. They complied immediately, glad for an excuse to postpone the cleanup job.

Sirius had nearly stopped yawning by the time they'd checked the dining room, library and basement. "Feeling more alive now, Padfoot?" Remus asked.

"A bit. It's still pre-noon, though; give me another..." He opened the door to the drawing room and trailed off.

Nymphadora and Severus were sprawled on the carpet, surrounded by a few crumb-sprinkled plates and apparently mesmerized by the scene taking place before their eyes: a pirate with a ridiculously oversized, feathered hat was making some girl walk the plank.

"Severus?" Remus asked incredulously.

"SHHH!" Nymphadora demanded. "This is the good part! Don't worry, Severus, he saves her," she added, refocusing her attention on the television. A boy in green tights caught the girl and then they saw a fairy—_but it's too large for a fairy,_ Sirius thought. _They're only about half that size..._

"Severus?" Remus repeated. "Are you watching _Peter Pan?_"

"It _moves_," he murmured, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Like a painting, except it's a story instead of a person. And they do this without magic? It's incredible..."

Sirius groaned and rolled his eyes. Remus elbowed him. "You two were just as bad the first time I showed you TV."

"We were," James agreed, "but _Peter Pan?_ What about Jaws or James Bond or—"

"We're watching Cinderella next," Nymphadora interrupted. "I have Sleeping Beauty too but we watched that before Severus cooked breakfast."

Sirius groaned again before visibly composing himself. He strode in front of the television and stood there with his arms crossed, ignoring their protests. "Okay. You two, kitchen, now."

"But—"

"You can finish it later, Sev," he sighed. "Andromeda's in there going spare because she's paranoid after what happened to Nymphadora earlier this summer. Now get moving or I'm going to find the camera and get some more blackmail pictures of you two."

"What do you mean, _more_ pictures?" Severus asked as he rose, one eyebrow raised in mock accusation. Sirius blinked as he stared back, noting suddenly that Severus wasn't wearing black. _Has he ever worn anything besides black?_ His sleeves were short, too—though the reasoning behind that was more obvious—and there was altogether a far... happier... aura about him than Sirius had imagined possible. _Did the Dark Mark affect him that much?_

"You aren't wearing black," he stated—he had to admit it, even to himself—rather stupidly.

"But of course," Severus replied with a grin. "You see, unlike you, Padfoot, I no longer have a reputation to maintain. Adieu." He tweaked Sirius' nose and left the room laughing, followed by Nymphadora—who seemed to have attached herself to him parasitically—Remus, a stack of floating dishes, James, who was making the dishes float, and eventually Sirius, who turned off the TV before running to catch up, muttering _mad as a hatter, mad as a hatter _beneath his breath the entire way.

* * *

Sirius' sleeping habits are directly lifted from my personal experiences. The next chapter will be longer, and up much sooner, so no flames, please.

The Dumb Questions:

What was peachy? What was revolving? What was serendipitous? What was a good metaphor for life? How do you solve a problem like Nymphadora?

And by the way... I don't own any of the aforementionedDisney movies. Really! Yeah, astonishing, I know. Huggbees!


	23. For Two Hundred Thousand Galleons

DISCLAIMER: I do not practice cannabilism. Also, I do not own Harry Potter.

DEDICATION: Hebi R for her compliments and encouragement. Ya'll owe her so much more than you know.

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXII:**

_**For Two Hundred Thousand Galleons**_

"One hour till showtime," Andromeda called from the kitchen. Severus dropped his rag into the bucket of brackish, soapy water and stretched.

"That," said Sirius, "is her way of saying go-take-a-shower-and-change-because-you-lot-smell. I ask you, is that our fault? Is it?"

Remus rolled his eyes; James snorted and tossed his rag towards the bucket as well. The Marauders headed for the stairs, treading carefully on the spotless floor as they passed dusted shelves and polished knick-knacks.

Twenty minutes later Severus was scrubbing shampoo into his scalp, wondering why he bothered—_it'll be greasy again before the sun sets_—and reviewing the day's events thus far. As it turned out, the hours between four thirty and seven in the morning had been the most agreeable; Nymphadora had introduced him to the fascinating muggle contraption tea-vee, and they'd enjoyed a leisurely breakfast before Sirius' intervention. Afterwards the Tonks couple had checked him over; they declared him recovered with no side-effects from the Dark Mark's removal, made him solemnly swear not to overexert himself, and sent him to join the others. The rest of the day was lost in aimless banter and soap suds.

Andromeda, he'd learned, was a stickler for neatness—a trait certainly not shared by the other members of her family. Under her direction the Marauders had cleaned the house from roof to foundation, joined occasionally by others she'd pressed into service. Polishing dishes, scrubbing floors, washing windows... _It's a good thing we can use magic or it would've taken forever._

It was also through Andromeda that he'd discovered what Sirius had meant by blackmail pictures—shots taken the night before when he and Nymphadora had dozed off in a heap on the bed. Fortunately, Andromeda had declared them all "absolutely precious," and though that had been completely embarrassing, it meant she refused to give one to the Gryffindors. She had also, to Severus' relief, refused to give up the negatives.

Severus turned off the water, dried himself and surrendered the bathroom to an impatient Sirius, who James and Remus had insisted should shower last because he took forever with his hair. They were already dressed and engrossed in a game of wizard's chess. Severus strode past them to his school trunk, which had been relocated during the cleanup and now sat proudly at the end of the room's previously unoccupied fourth bed. Opening it, he was startled to see a stack of clothes that were most certainly not his. Pinned to the top was a note...

_Dear Severus,_

_I have finally succeeded in convincing several rather stubborn employees of the Ministry that your father is an insane, tyrannical sadist incapable of looking after a flobberworm, let alone a teenager. You will no doubt be pleased to hear that he no longer has any legal authority over you. Since you have no other close relatives, you became a ward of the Ministry, the representatives of which were more than happy to sign over all the rights and responsibilities of your legal guardian to the headmaster of your current school—who, conveniently enough, happens to be me._

_Thus you may notice that your school trunk contains a few more of life's essentials, a.k.a. wardrobe, toiletries, a pouch of spending money, de Montmorency's Bibliotheca Medicamentorum—don't be so surprised, I've seen you drooling over it in the library—and a rather large bar of Honeydukes' finest fudge, which with careful planning should be enough to spoil both you and your friends' appetites for several dinners. I recommend saving at least half of it for whatever night Mrs. Potter chooses to try out the casserole recipe she borrowed from Hagrid._

_I understand that you dislike "charity," as you have put it in the past, but as I am now your legal guardian it is my duty and privilege to take care of your physical needs, and if you refuse I shall be forced to give you detention._

_Most sincerely, Albus Dumbledore_

Severus reread the note and smiled broadly. To be "owned," as it were, by Dumbledore instead of his father—that was a dream come true. For that joy he would throw his reluctance to be dependant on anyone else out the window. _Besides, properly fitting clothes will be a welcome novelty—not to mention the fudge. And the encyclopedia...!_ He threw on a slightly formal robe of dark green—noting with satisfaction that it _did_ fit—pulled out his newly acquired book, and was sprawled on the bed reading page forty-two when Sirius finally emerged from the bathroom.

"Took you long enough," James said. "Let's get downstairs."

Mrs. Potter had set out plates of biscuits and pastries in the kitchen; it was to these that the Marauders naturally gravitated. She spotted them moments later and chased them away as if they were flies. They wandered into the library—where most of the house's furniture had been arranged around an enormous old table—and settled in an unobtrusive corner to watch the comings and goings of the many early arrivals. Severus was for once happy to hear the others ramble; they had met many of the Order members before previous meetings and helped him match names with faces.

"See the woman over there with red hair? That's Molly Weasley, she's the Prewett brother's sister; she married a bloke named Arthur who works for the Ministry—"

"Yeah, she's a wicked cook but watch out for her temper. And she's got kids, two I think..."

"There's McGonagall, of course you know her—and talking to her is Arabella Figg, she's a squib and always smells like cats. If she offers you chocolate cake don't take it; it tastes like cardboard."

"The man who just came in is Mr. Bones, and behind him with the ugly hat is Elphias Doge..."

The conversation paused a moment as Moody walked past. The grizzled auror sported a new eye, which twisted and rolled about madly in its socket as though it was electrically charged.

"Well, that's way creepy," Sirius summarized.

"And there's Hagrid! Hey, Hagrid!" James called.

The groundskeeper turned and his eyes lit up, a very large grin spreading across his face as he approached. "James! All yeh... doin' all righ'? I heard yeh four got into some trouble las' week. Good teh know yer doin' well..." He was now staring at Severus with frank curiosity. "I don' believe we've been rightly introduced. Name's Hagrid, sure yeh knew tha' already." He held out an enormous hand.

"Severus Snape, as I'm sure you knew." Severus extended his own hand and they shook.

"How's Fang doing?" Sirius asked.

"Fine, fine—but I gotta go find Professor McGonagall now, gotta message teh deliver 'fore I forget. Pleasure teh meet yeh, Severus—you lot take care now." Hagrid disappeared into the hallway, ducking his head to fit beneath the doorframe.

Ten minutes later it became apparent that the meeting was going to start late. Severus excused himself to use the loo, and it was while returning to the library that he encountered yet another Order member.

The collision was clearly the other man's fault. He was walking too quickly, ignoring his surroundings, and ran into Severus from the side. Severus stood up, not expecting the man to apologize, but neither did he expect the man's hand to seize his wrist, preventing his departure. A pair of grey eyes glared at him with all the heat of mercury. Severus sighed. _So it's going to be another of those._

"Is an apology forthcoming?" the stranger hissed.

"If I recall correctly, you ran into me, not the other way around."

The man's grip intensified to a degree Severus considered painful. "Apparently even the most rudimentary manners are beyond your grasp, insolent boy. You should have more respect for a member of the Order." He spoke slowly and condescendingly from beneath hairy black eyebrows that looked like twin caterpillars.

Severus twisted his face into its best imitation of meekness—a mask always useful when gathering information. "I'm sorry. I did not know you were a member of the Order, Mr...?"

"Greebe. Adalbert Greebe. And no, you wouldn't, would you?" he sneered. "Disgusting, the disrespect for authority so prevalent among our youth."

There was little Severus could say in response to such a statement, so he kept his expression carefully neutral and prodded Greebe's mind gently, searching for the universal access many wizards—those without secrets—granted. Instead he found an Occlumency shield blazing with raw energy, strong and complete but lacking any subtlety whatsoever. _Ten galleons says he was in Gryffindor._

"Off with you then. Go about whatever frivolous amusements fill your days." Greebe swept from the room as quickly as he'd entered. His mind left a nasty aftertaste in Severus' head that seemed vaguely familiar—_perhaps I've met someone else in his family?_ Severus sent a glare after him then returned to the now-crowded library and his armchair.

A minute later Dumbledore arrived and settled himself at the end of the table. The gathering commenced. It was, as Severus had expected, relatively dull. Andromeda and Ted informed everyone of their laboratory's destruction and their Dark Mark removing potion's success. Mr. Potter, Moody and several others discussed the latest happenings at the ministry—which included a complete absence of intelligence on Pettigrew's whereabouts—other security concerns were resolved, and finally Dumbledore rose to introduce "the newest addition to our intelligence network, Mr. Adalbert Greebe."

_He is my replacement?_ Severus sighed and dropped his head into his hands. _We are all so very, very dead._

"As only a few of you know," Dumbledore continued, "Mr. Greebe has also consented to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts this year. Professor Pendergrass, as even fewer of you know, retired last week and ran away to a Muggle town in North America—Vaygus, I do believe it is called—with Professor Slughorn, our Potions professor. That position will be filled by Ted Tonks. His wife Andromeda will also be at Hogwarts, assisting Poppy in the Hospital Wing. This raises the number of Order members on Hogwarts' staff to six, which seems prudent considering the dangers posed to the students by those both inside and outside Hogwarts... Greebe, if you would like to continue?"

Greebe stood and began talking. His voice, which had been so harsh and venomous in the hallway, was calm and casual; he seemed anxious to give a good first impression. Severus listened attentively as Greebe reported what little he knew. The Dark Lord had apparently resumed his quest for immortality—an ongoing project he usually reverted to after setbacks reminiscent of the Diagon Alley fiasco—but anyone could have told them that. The same held true for Greebe's second report: that multiple teenagers had been marked over the summer. Probably Hogwarts students. And—though no one said it aloud—probably Slytherins.

Severus was not overly fond of Slytherin house, nor was he fond of his dorm mates. His relationship with them resembled in many ways the one he'd shared with the Marauders at the beginning of the summer, except that the bullying had been accomplished in private and no evidence had been left for the teachers to find. But just as Severus had never been able to wish the Gryffindors dead, he could not wish the Dark Lord on the Slytherins. He could not wish the Cruciatus on anyone, not even Wilkes, Rookwood, Lestrange and Avery... not even the Carrows siblings... _I hope you lot aren't as thick as I think you are. I hope you made the right choice..._

Once Greebe finished his speech others continued the discussion: assessing, arguing, questioning, bickering, welcoming Greebe to the team and reviewing his qualifications... Suddenly Greebe himself slapped the table.

"Merlin! In all the excitement I nearly forgot!"

_What excitement?_ Severus wondered.

"I overheard an interesting conversation yesterday between two of the inner circle, regarding someone I suppose is a potential Death Eater..."

The Order—metaphorically—pricked their ears up.

"There's some bloke, I didn't quite get his name—Saverus? Sevarus?—anyway, the Dark Lord wrote him a letter asking him to join the Death Eaters. He made him an unprecedented offer: gold, power, the second-in-command position, everything... and this bloke wrote back and told him to—pardon the phrase—fuck off. Apparently the Dark Lord had a fit and cursed the skin off a few more of his followers, and now he's promised two hundred thousand galleons and immediate promotion for anyone who brings him in alive."

Severus swallowed hard. _No tears over costing them a few Cruciatus. But two hundred_ _thousand galleons on my head..._ He felt weighed down, both by this knowledge and the stares of half the room. The Gryffindors were sending him glances spiked with anger and concern; Dumbledore's mind pressed against his...

_You didn't mention this._ Dumbledore's tone was heavy with disappointment.

_Um, I forgot?_

_We will continue this conversation later, Severus._

Aloud and oblivious, Greebe continued: "We ought to warn him if anyone knows who he is; he'd probably make a good ally as well. He has some nerve, that's certain—I'd bet anything he was in Gryffindor..."

"I'll take you up on that," Andromeda said sarcastically. She narrowed her eyes, which were still focused on Severus. "Did you really tell him that?"

Severus shrugged noncommittally.

"Perhaps it is time for some introductions," said Dumbledore. "You have all met Mr. Greebe already; Adalbert, this is Severus Snape, fifth year Slytherin and your predecessor." Severus nodded in the barest form of acknowledgement; Greebe gaped like a first year at the Sorting.

"His Occlumency shield is adequately strong," Severus conceded, "but about as subtle as a hippogriff in a china shop. And, if I may be frank," he continued, speaking directly to Greebe, "I find your overconfidence highly disturbing."

These words were followed by a general uproar, which was a more satisfactory ending to the meeting than the Order usually achieved.

* * *

James was dragging him by the wrist, Remus was pushing him forward, and Sirius' eyes were boring into the back of his head. They marched him up the stairs, down the hall and into their room; Sirius shut the door with more force than was strictly necessary and James steered him onto the bed where Severus sat, surrounded. The Gryffindors loomed over him like guards.

"What was _that?_" Sirius demanded. "Did you ever plan to go to all the _bother_ of informing us that You-Know-Who is _sending you post?_"

"What if he'd cursed the letter?" Remus asked. "Or if there was a tracing charm on it or—"

"I checked for curses, and tracing charms can't get through the wards. I'm not an idiot, you know." Severus crossed his arms and glared at them.

James glared back. "Well, you're doing a good impression at the moment! When the most feared wizard in the world has two hundred thousand galleons on your head, it's usually a good idea to _let someone know!_"

"I learned about _that_ when you did, and you already knew he was after me! Just because I didn't mention the letter doesn't mean you didn't know he—"

"—wants you badly enough to make you an offer?" Sirius interrupted. "Was that it? You didn't want us to know he'd invited you back?"

"Bloody hell, no!"

"Then why not?" James asked. "Why—"

"It slipped my mind! It's not important! For Merlin's sake—I can take care of myself, why are you lot so worried?"

"Merlin, Severus. Are you really _that_ thick?" Remus asked. Severus scowled, but a retort wilted on his tongue when Remus leaned forward so their faces were inches apart. A spark of anger was evident in the werewolf's eyes. "Seven days ago, Severus—a single week—we found you in that godforsaken torture chamber. And I swear by all that is holy I'll never forget that sight for as long as I live. I thought you were dead, Severus. For the next three days, I sat at your bedside, and you were still dead. Pale as a ghost, hardly breathing—not eating or moving or talking except to scream in your sleep. And yesterday, when I thought you were better, I got to help burn the _flesh_ off your arm because the alternate was far worse... and you wonder why we worry?"

Remus sighed and picked up one of Severus' hands with his own, staring at it before looking back up at his friend. "You attract more trouble than Sirius would in the teacher's lounge. You say you can take care of yourself, and you can—but I see what taking care of yourself has done to you. I can feel your hands tremble, I see you favor your left leg, and I bet Sirius or James could snap your arm like a twig. You really ought to eat more—but that's another lecture. What you need to know now is that the three of us promised each other, while you were still out of it, that we'd never let anything like last week happen to you again. That means you have to _tell_ us these things, you great stupid prat. And you will in the future, promise?"

Severus was speechless. He blinked at the carpet, not trusting himself to look up. "I concede your point," he whispered.

"Oh, don't be like that!" James said. "We're not _mad_ at you—okay, maybe we are, but not _that_ mad," he amended, raking his fingers through his hair. "I mean—it's just—" He sighed and flopped onto the duvet beside Severus.

Sirius joined the others on the bed. "It's just we don't want you dead."

Severus closed his eyes. Remus was still watching him; he could feel it. "I promise. And... thanks. For everything." He chanced a glance at his friends and was relieved to see they were back to their usual, Gryffindorish, smiling-for-no-good-reason selves.

"Well, that's settled—unless there's anything else you ought to tell us?" James asked, only half joking. Severus' response was to pull Dumbledore's letter from his pocket and hand it over. He laid back on the bed and stretched out, listening to the parchment crackle as the others attempted to read it simultaneously.

"You would've _had_ to tell us about this at some point," Sirius said. "Unless you can eat that much fudge by yourself, which I doubt."

"Come off it, Padfoot." Remus turned to Severus. "The important thing is that you don't have to worry about the legalities now—"

"No, the important thing is that _Dumbledore _is your guardian! Think about that! None of the prefects will dare give you detention or take points; they'll be too scared of you!" James laughed.

"Except for our own _personal_ newly-minted specimen of authority, of course." Sirius honored Remus with a mock bow.

At that moment the bedroom door swung open, admitting Nymphadora—who giggled and jumped on the bed to tackle Sirius—and Dumbledore, who shut the door and turned to treat Severus to an exact replica of Remus' glare.

Severus sighed and stood up. "Yes, it was thick," he admitted, now with some knowledge of where these conversations were headed. "Yes, I'm sorry, and I won't do it again, I promised."

"He did," James agreed. "After Remus chewed him out—he's going to be a scary prefect."

Dumbledore blinked and most of the sternness on his face evaporated. "No more secrets then, Severus?"

"If you will show me the same courtesy. Not that I particularly _desire_ to know that Father is sending me Howlers, but I like being left in the dark nearly as much as you do."

Dumbledore glanced towards the Gryffindors, whose expressions—honestly, for a change—denied all involvement. He nodded, unsurprised. "Agreed."

"While we're on the subject, there's another spot of information you ought to know, but it's not mine to tell. The Tonks need to be here for that." Dumbledore raised both an eyebrow and his wand; a moment later they heard running and the door slammed open once more.

"Albus? What's wrong?" Andromeda scanned the room for blood or other signs of traumatic injury.

"Nothing, Andromeda. I was simply informed that you and Ted needed to be present for a minute," Dumbledore replied, shutting the door again. Everyone glanced at Severus expectantly; he turned to face the six year-old girl doing somersaults on Remus' pillows.

"Nymphadora? Get over here and tell your mum and dad."

She slid off the bed to the floor, looking up at him suspiciously. _You're sure they won't mind?_

_I'm very sure. Go on._

Nymphadora pursed her lips together and inched forward until she was standing in the middle of the room. She turned to stare curiously at all the people watching her before addressing Severus. "Well... what do I say exactly?"

Severus sighed. "Just what you told me last night."

"Oh. Um... Okay. This is my secret. _I _am a... a..." She frowned. "What's the word again?"

_Metamorphmagus._

"—a Metamorphmagus!"

"You're _serious?_" James exclaimed. "Metamorphmagi are from stories—there hasn't been one in Britain for what, fifty years?"

The Tonks couple gazed in awe at their daughter. "Really, Nymphadora?" Ted asked, kneeling to look her in the eyes. "Will you show us?"

She obliged with a convincing impression of Sirius' face, than Severus', than gave herself a long silver beard like Dumbledore's and danced around the room with it, laughing and enjoying the attention. Ted swung her into his arms and spun her around; she shrieked for joy and demanded more. Andromeda and Dumbledore began discussing how this would effect her education; the other Marauders turned to Severus as one and asked:

"How did you get her to tell you?"

He shrugged. "I told her a secret of my own—and before you ask, no, I'm _not_ sharing it. I need a little privacy."

"Aw, I feel left out," Sirius moped. "You won't even give us a hint? Come on, just one hint?"

"No hints. We're keeping this to ourselves—purple-spotted unicorns and all."

* * *

Ahem. So... sorry for the multiple delays. Blame the computer and school and such. But I'm officially back on an actual updating schedule starting now.

The Dumb Questions, Now With Answers!

Carol J. won the "lyrics to the 'I'm a tugboat call me Mel'" contest. You should recieve your extra oxygen shortly, Carol. Jecir recieves honorable mention for creativity, re:

"Marauders: I'm a tug boat, call me Mel!  
Sirius: Severus can't help that he still smells!  
Severus: Hey:pounces Sirus. Boyish braul ensues:  
James: Oiy, there they go again.  
Remus: Munch, munch...m...chocolate frogs.  
Me: I'm a tug boat, call me mel!"

Which is pretty much about as nonsensical as the song itself, so there you have it.

"How do you keep a wave upon the sand?"- well, it's not easy, but if you can get me some steel beams, plywood, twenty seven rolls of duct tape, a screwdriver and a wave,I'll show you.

And for this chapter's question: what questions would _you_ ask _me?_ I'm curious. All the odd people on the internet seem to magically gravitate together. We're like a black hole in progress... join us... join us... you will review now...


	24. So There's Good News and There's Bad New

DISCLAIMER: The world is flat. Maggots are beautiful. Apples fall up when you drop them. And I own Harry Potter.

DEDICATION: To all my wonderful, wonderful reviewers. I read each and every review and I treasure your compliments and criticism, your humor and sarcasm. I love you alllll!

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* * *

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXIII:**

_**So There's Good News and There's Bad News**_

The end of the holidays snuck up on Severus. Two days ago summer had seemed perpetual; yesterday he'd spent the afternoon and evening completing his neglected homework, and today they were in Diagon Alley. Though the previous week's damage had been completely repaired, the location did not bring back his fondest memories.

These were mostly forgotten, however, in the four hours it took the Marauders and their entourage of Order members to successfully navigate Gringotts, Flourish & Blotts, the apothecary—which the Gryffindors had to drag Severus out of— Madam Malkin's, Gambol & Japes' joke shop—which Severus had to drag the Gryffindors out of—and Quality Quidditch Supplies. After spending half an hour in the latter store, Severus and Remus had given up on their Quidditch-obsessed friends and were now sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor enjoying the flavors "strawberry" and "chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts," respectively.

Diagon Alley was unusually quiet for the week before fall term, but nevertheless Severus recognized several other Hogwarts students, and did his best to ignore the odd looks they shot his way. _Severus Snape and Remus Lupin, having an amiable conversation? When everyone in the school knows we're mortal enemies?_

Remus grinned. _I suppose they are a bit confused._

_More probably they believe they are going mad. _"I think I'm going mad, too," he added aloud. "Did Sirius and James just _voluntarily_ leave the Quidditch store?"

"No," Ted reported. He had a better view of the shop, if he could possibly see over his troll-sized sundae. "I think Andromeda is dragging them by the ears."

Remus and Severus exchanged smirks that completely failed to look sympathetic.

* * *

A few minutes later Severus stumbled out of the Floo and was surprised to see Dumbledore at the kitchen table with yet another cup of tea.

"Albus!" Andromeda exclaimed, emerging from the fireplace behind him. "Merely a social call, or is something wrong?"

Dumbledore peered at her fondly from behind his spectacles. His expression was too serious for his attire: a gaudy purple hat with golden trim and robes to match. "I have received some disconcerting news," he said quietly. The Floo flashed green again and the rest of the Marauders tumbled out. "Boys, if you would please adjourn to the drawing room; I'll be in to speak with you shortly."

The Marauders complied, exchanging puzzled glances as their feet carried them from the fireplace through the doorway to the drawing room sofa. Barely two minutes passed before the door opened and Dumbledore joined them, settling in his favorite armchair.

"Severus." Dumbledore was staring directly at him and his eyes were not twinkling. _Bad sign._ "Though we managed to keep your name out of the paper, everyone significant in the Ministry, Order and Death Eater ranks now knows of your role in the war. I have reason to believe that the majority of Hogwarts students who have taken the mark were recruited simply to help capture you, as Voldemort's Death Eaters are significantly less powerful without hordes of demons backing them up."

Severus nodded slowly; he knew this already.

"I feel slightly more confident in Hogwart's security, now that Ted, Andromeda and Greebe have joined the faculty—"

"I don't trust Greebe," said Severus. Dumbledore blinked at him over his spectacles. "Don't ask me why, but I don't trust him—he doesn't feel quite right."

"Perhaps it is the taint of darkness in his magic? You of all people should know, Severus, that bearing the Mark does not necessarily make one evil."

Severus pressed his fingertips together. "I did not say he was _evil_."

"I think it's more that you don't trust _anyone_," Sirius joked.

"Well, you are certainly not required to trust Professor Greebe, as long as you show him the respect due every teacher," Dumbledore said. Severus looked doubtful. "But returning to the topic at hand—Hogwart's security measures, while formidable, are far from infallible. Therefore you will understand my concerns about your safety and my need to set security precautions."

He waited until Severus nodded again, albeit more reluctantly.

"Mostly, Severus, I just want you to be careful—particularly after curfew. Stay with James, Sirius, Remus, or a teacher as often as possible, and under no circumstances are you to wander the grounds alone."

"Won't that be a bit difficult, what with our common rooms on opposite ends of the castle?" James asked. "And, no offense, Severus, but do you actually trust your roommates?"

"I considered that as well, James," Dumbledore said, "and I have decided to take a rather drastic step—though perfectly legal and proper, it hasn't been done in nearly two hundred years. When a student's life would be endangered otherwise..." Dumbledore pulled the purple hat off his head and sat it on his knee, "...it is permissible to resort them. _Finite Incantatem._" The familiar form of the Sorting Hat replaced the gaudy purple monstrosity. "I need not say," Dumbledore added, looking a bit guilty, "that I'm hoping you end up in Gryffindor."

_That would be nice,_ Severus' mind admitted. His mouth said: "I doubt that will be a problem, considering our last conversation. But you realize this will do absolutely nothing to abolish the Gryffindor-good, Slytherin-evil stereotypes."

Dumbledore met Severus' gaze. "I would perpetuate a thousand stereotypes, if that's what it takes to keep you safe."

Severus looked away first, and without further ado, Dumbledore plopped the hat on his head. The room was silent for a moment. Then the hat's brim opened and spoke the words they'd been waiting to hear...

"I'm supposed to sing first."

_You don't have to sing,_ Severus reassured the hat.

"Oh yes I do. I _always_ sing. Give me a few days to think up a song—"

"Just use the one you've made up for this year," Remus interrupted.

"No, no—that wouldn't be right," the hat lamented. "I'll just have to make one up quickly then, I suppose... Just a minute..."

After another—quite lengthy—moment of silence, Dumbledore tapped the hat's tattered brim. "Are you awake?"

"Yes, yes, I'm getting there. Hold your hippogriffs... ah, here we go. Ahem. _Gryffindor's brave, Ravenclaw's smart, and Hufflepuffs are fair—you already know Slytherin, hell, I put you there!"_

There was yet another silence, and it was not one of appreciation.

"No wonder it needs the whole year to think up a song," Sirius whispered loudly.

"It's not an easy job, I'll have you know," the hat snapped. "Long hours, no pay, no perks whatsoever—and so _dull_. I mean, how many words rhyme with "brave"? Honestly, I ought to do reruns; no one appreciates the Sorting anyway. The first years are too terrified, the older students just want to eat, and the faculty are all busy trying to pick out the next year's troublemakers. _I_ could tell them, but do they ask me? Noooo, of course not—I'm a hat, what do I know? You lot are just as bad. 'Get on with it'—that's what you're all thinking, I can tell. Especially you, Severus."

_Then get on with it. _

"Well then, let's see..." Severus felt the hat probing his mind. "Hmmm, I know _just_ where to put you. HUFFLEPUFF!"

Severus froze. His mouth dropped open. He saw the others staring. "Y-You..." His voice was not working properly. "You aren't _serious_, are you?"

"Of course not." The hat burst into peals of annoying laughter; Severus swore and threw it across the room. It landed on the carpet, still laughing. "Oh, it was worth it. I've _always_ wanted to do that—the looks on your faces!"

Dumbledore picked up the hat and looked at it sternly. "We do not have all day."

"Okay, okay—I'll sort him properly then." Severus crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the hat as it fell around his head once more.

"Hmmm, let's see—oh, you _are_ mad at me, aren't you," the hat whispered in his ear. "Quite a temper you've developed, Severus... but far stronger is your ability to suppress it. From spying, of course—oh, nasty memories of that. Still intelligent, obviously, though you've never particularly cared about academics. Not Ravenclaw, then. And still fond of potion brewing, I see. Not quite as ruthless as you were four years ago—you've learned to value lives other than your own; that's very Gryffindor of you. But you're not nearly as impulsive as you used to be, oh no, and I see no qualms about lying, stealing or even murder if that's what you think will protect those you care for. There is indeed more Hufflepuff in you now—don't glare at me like that—but then you never had anyone to be loyal to before you met the Headmaster. What else... You're more cunning, more devious, more _Slytherin_ than you were four years ago, Severus. It seems the house does make the wizard. But Slytherin is not an option and I certainly know which of the other three houses will suit you best. How ironic, that when I sorted you four years ago you would have gone into Gryffindor but for your father—and today, when you've evolved into the spitting image of Salazar himself, I am forced to sort you into Gryffindor. How odd. But somehow very fitting. GRYFFINDOR!"

Dumbledore and Remus smiled in relief. Sirius and James gave each other high-fives. Severus rolled his eyes. "I suppose I'm now required to make scenes in the corridors and help gatecrash the teacher-appreciation banquets?"

What he said to the hat was a different matter.

_Thanks. Gryffindor might not be my favorite house, but I'd certainly prefer to be with Remus and Sirius and James._

"No trouble whatsoever. I think Gryffindor house will do you some good—and you'll do them some, too. They need shaken up every decade or so." The hat sighed. "If only every Sorting could be this entertaining."

_Maybe you should try something different this year,_ Severus suggested. _It might be therapeutic. _

"Ah, but what?"

_Well, I know what I'd do..._

"Oh, yes, I see. That's actually quite a good idea—" the hat was cut off as Dumbledore lifted it from Severus' head. He smiled at Severus before transfiguring the hat and replacing it on his own head.

"One more note. As I am sure you have noticed, I have not yet mentioned registering you as Animagi—"

James and Sirius groaned.

"—and I do not intend to. To the best of my knowledge no one outside the Order knows you are capable of transforming; this could be of considerable benefit to any of you in the event of an attack on the school. I would also imagine," he added, eyes twinkling once more, "that there are so many cats at Hogwarts that another would not draw any attention in the Gryffindor common room, Severus—and considering the attention you're likely to attract there, you may find an hour of anonymity very refreshing. I trust that none of you will abuse this privilege."

The Marauders nodded hastily.

"Well then. I expect to see you four at the welcoming feast on Monday, and if any of you should ever need me, the password to my office is Fudge Flies." He looked rather pointedly at Severus. _I still expect you to drop by at least once a week to chat. My door is open twenty-four hours a day, Severus._ Dumbledore smiled once more, nodded politely and left the room just before Sirius exploded.

"WICKED! This is bloody awesome—I didn't even know there was such a _thing_ as a resorting!" He grinned at Severus. "And you thought you were escaping us, huh? You didn't think you'd get away that easily, did you?"

"I doubt it'll be that entertaining, Padfoot. At least not for me..." Severus said, losing himself in thought. There were numerous downsides to Gryffindor house that no one else had mentioned—namely, that everyone there but the other Marauders would taunt or hex him on sight. "...I don't exactly get along with your housemates."

"Don't worry about that," Remus said. "If they give you a hard time I'll dock points, or—"

"We'll hex them bloody," James and Sirius said as one.

"Though you're going to have to put in some effort too. If you're friendly—"

Severus scowled at Remus. "I don't _do_ friendly."

"You're nice to us," James pointed out. "And Nymphadora, and Andromeda and Ted. Not to mention Dumbledore."

"That's different," Severus sighed. He doubted ever-popular James would understand that being on good terms with a handful of people, most of whom he'd gone to hell and back with, was quite different from being nice to strangers with whom he shared nothing but mutual loathing. _They hate me for existing, so I hate them for existing. Very fair and practical._

Remus patted his shoulder reassuringly. "It'll work out, you'll see. And it's better than Slytherin, right?"

"Yes," Severus admitted. "My dorm mates are worse than you lot ever were." He wrapped his arms around himself and looked at the floor.

"We always thought you got on okay," James ventured hesitantly.

"They never bothered me in public; it would've ruined my function as their scapegoat. They had the sense to keep it private." _Unlike you_, he did not add.

The others heard it anyway.

"I don't know if it means anything, Sev," James said slowly, "but I'm sorry. We're all sorry. If I could go back in time and do one thing over..." He sighed.

"It does mean something, Prongs. Thanks."

Sirius stood up and stretched. "I don't know about you lot, but I could use some lunch. All in favor?"

There was a small chorus of "ayes" and the Marauders trooped into the kitchen to eat. They did not expect to see Mrs. Potter attempting to comfort Andromeda, who was sobbing her eyes dry.

"Mum?"

Mrs. Potter raised her head to look at James. "Oh, boys—I'll explain in a moment. Would one of you mind making up a cup of tea? And Severus, Ted wanted to speak with you; he's in the cellar."

Severus exchanged another series of puzzled glances with his friends before walking to the cellar as quickly as possible. He descended the stairs and found Ted rummaging through his potion supplies and a stack of ancient parchment.

"Professor?"

"Ted, Severus. Call me Ted." He let out a gigantic sigh and sat down on the bed, head buried in his hands. "We have a problem. According to Albus' records," he indicated the pile of parchment, "there has only been one recorded Metamorphmagus anywhere near as young as Nymphadora. She was eight when she first displayed the gift. And... and..." His voice broke. "And she died from it."

Severus' eyes widened and he felt the stirrings of fear in his chest. "How is that possible?"

"She was too young. Her muscles, teeth, nerves, bones and magic were not yet fully developed. Her body could not support the changes, and her magic was not yet strong enough to counter the ill-effects. By the time her parents realized what was happening, it was too late."

"Merlin." Severus collapsed on the bed as well. "Can't you just tell her not to change at all?"

"That won't help. After the girl died, they did an autopsy and discovered that the cause of death had been magical exhaustion. Apparently a Metamorphmagus _must_ dedicate a portion of their magic to maintaining their original body just in case they decide to change form. Nymphadora is too young, her magic too uncontrollable, to protect herself—but her magic is going to attempt it anyway, and magical exhaustion... can be fatal."

Ted sighed again. Then, without warning, he pushed himself off the bed and began to pace the room. "But you're wondering what this has to do with you. You're wondering why I am telling you this down here, instead of Mrs. Potter telling you upstairs." Ted whirled around to stare at Severus, and suddenly he was purely professional, an expert—a master. "You are the most talented Potions student I have ever met. While your experience and knowledge are obviously limited, you still know more than Andromeda: she is a healer first, potion brewer second. You also learn very quickly, take excellent notes, and are capable of brewing extremely complex potions. Yes, I went through your desk," he replied to Severus' unspoken question. "I had to know if you are capable of what I'm about to ask you to do. I intend to cure Nymphadora's condition, and the only way I can see to do that is to create a potion that is capable of refining uncontrolled magic. She has plenty of that."

Severus knew what Ted was speaking of—Albion's Quandary, one of the most famous puzzles in the world of potion brewing. Albion had proved, in a brilliantly written thesis published more than five centuries ago, that it was theoretically _possible_ for a potion to transform uncontrolled magic into controlled magic. He'd spent the rest of his life trying and failing to create such a potion. Generations of Potions masters had worked on the problem, advancing step by miniscule step—but no one had ever reached the fabled one hundred percent readout. The current record, in fact, was only forty-two percent, and that number had not changed in fifty-nine years.

"I don't mean to discourage you," Severus said quietly, "but wizards have been trying to do that for centuries."

"I know it is a fool's errand, but I must try. Will you help me?" Ted was still looking down at Severus, and his facial expression did not change, but they both knew he was begging.

"I would do anything for Nymphadora."

Ted nodded, relief evident on his face. "Very good. Now then—I was thinking along the lines of Vaughan's work with Strengthening Elixirs, combined with a sort of mix between an enhancing and purifying agent..."

* * *

Ohhh, evil plot twist! Evil plot twist! -cackles in glee-

Anyway, I'm going to do something different today-- instead of giving you questions, I'm going to direct your attention to the profile of my wonderful reviewer Hebi R, who has composed a wonderful little ficlet set in this universe! -insert girlish squeel here-

So, if you want to see Hogwarts' first glimpse of the new Marauders, you don't have to wait for the next chapter- you can check out her profile! The fic should be up approximately 30 seconds after she reads this...

Huggbees forever! Read and Review! Eat a Beaver, Save a Tree! Shave the Whales! Long Live Life!

P.S.: Yes, the Sorting Hat is OOC. I thought it over and decided it was worth it.


	25. The Sorting Hat's Therapeutic Song

DISCLAIMER: I own a wacom tablet and an iPod. I own a vast assortment of art supplies and a large, stuffed dog. I own an electric blanket, multiple pairs of socks and two tiaras. I own a ramshackle swing set, a rubber snake, an autographed copy of Garth Nix's _Sabriel,_ a pencil sharpener, a hockey puck and two shoelaces. I even own the Skittlesverse, as Hebi recently christened it.

But I do not own Harry Potter.

DEDICATION: Is belated, because that would be a spoiler. -wink-

* * *

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXIV:**

_**The Sorting Hat's Therapeutic Song**_

Severus yawned on the way to King's Cross, yawned as he boarded the Hogwarts Express, yawned as he and the other Marauders settled themselves into an empty compartment, yawned as Remus left for the prefects' meeting, and yawned as James and Sirius started up a game of Exploding Snap. Finally James balled up his cloak and threw it at him. "Merlin, Severus. Just go back to sleep." Severus, who was sprawled across the bench opposite his friends, responded by tucking the cloak behind his head and pulling out a mystery novel he'd borrowed from Remus. He still had the rest of the Bibliotheca Medicamentorum to read, but he'd had enough of potions for a while.

Severus had spent every waking moment of the last two days with Ted in the cellar, researching and taking notes on whatever ancient books were placed in front of him. Ted was working like a man possessed, and Severus was not about to stand in his way. They'd had most of their meals in the cellar, and worked late into the night—or early into the morning—trying to find a lead worthy of experimentation; but so far all they had managed was to wear themselves out completely. Severus had been more grateful than he'd thought possible when Remus had packed for him so he could snatch an extra hour of sleep.

The cards exploded, rousing Severus from his thoughts. He tried to refocus his mind on the novel, but the words were blurry and his eyelids far too heavy...

* * *

"Checkmate," Sirius whispered. James growled in frustration; they'd switched to wizard's chess—which was somewhat quieter—after Severus fell asleep, and he'd lost all five games so far.

"Remus..." he began, looking with pleading eyes at the werewolf who was lounging on the floor, leaning comfortably against Severus' bench. Remus didn't even look up from his book.

"For the last time James, I'm not helping. You're perfectly capable of losing on your own."

"Ouch," Sirius laughed.

James was debating whether to throw a rook at him when the compartment door opened, admitting his fellow chaser, Davey Gudgeon, Gryffindor's keeper, Frank Longbottom, Frank's girlfriend, Alice Greenwood, and her best friend—the girl he dreamed about, the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts, the girl with gorgeous red curls and eyes of the deepest, brightest, purest green—Lily Evans, who hated his guts and would not go out with him no matter how many times he asked. James wondered why she was here; she never voluntarily came within hexing distance of him, despite the fact that he'd never jinxed her and never would...

"These three," Lily announced with a highly skeptical look on her face, "say you lot were kidnapped by You-Know-Who. They said it was in the _Prophet_, and that Peter is a Death Eater—and I don't know how you convinced them to help with this sick joke, but..." She glanced around the compartment. "Where _is_ Peter? And—that isn't—is that _Snape?_"

"What the hell is he doing in here?" Davey asked.

"Sleeping," Sirius replied nonchalantly, replacing his pawns on the board. "He was up late last night."

The quartet in the doorway gaped for a moment. "But—what—_why_ is he in your compartment? You didn't poison him, did you?" asked Frank.

"Of course not," James snapped. "We have a truce. We're _friends,_ whether you believe it or not. Now get out of here before you wake him up."

Alice didn't take the hint. "But isn't he a Death—"

"For Merlin's sake," Remus interrupted. "You have to explain things sometimes, James. Here's the abbreviated edition, Alice: Peter is indeed a Death Eater. He sold us out to You-Know-Who. Severus is—was—a spy for Dumbledore. He saved our lives, we saved his life, etcetera. We spent the summer together. Now we're friends. End of story."

Lily's brilliant green eyes were very wide. "So it's true?" she whispered.

"Yeah, and if you want details that's too bad, because you aren't getting them. Most of it we'd care to forget, anyway. Now, if you'll excuse us, I have to kick James' arse in chess again." Sirius saluted the visitors, then turned his back on them and refocused on the chess board. "Pawn to D3."

Alice, Lily, Davey and Frank left, reluctantly, after stealing more dubious glances at Severus. James could hear the girls begin speculating even before the door was closed.

"They're going to want more information later, you know," Remus said.

James nodded. "This is going to be trickier than I thought. By the time we get to Hogwarts, I bet everyone on the train will know... and none of them are going to trust Sev until they get the whole story."

"Or unless we threaten them," Sirius pointed out. "How's this for a slogan: trust him—or _else_."

"You can't threaten the whole school, Padfoot."

"You're right, Moony, that'd take far too much of my precious time. Unless..." Sirius paused. A wicked grin spread across his face. "Do you have any parchment handy? And James, I'll need to borrow your owl. We have a letter to write."

* * *

Severus woke up when James threw yet another set of robes at him—his Hogwarts robes.

"Get dressed, Severus. We'll be there in a few minutes."

Severus sat up and blinked. His hair was in his eyes; he brushed it away and pulled the robes over his head, noting with a mixture of apprehension and relief that the Slytherin crest had been replaced with a Gryffindor lion.

As he felt the train screech to a halt in front of Hogsmeade Station, Severus intensified his Occlumency shield, both out of habit and because he found it calming. After firmly reminding himself that Hogwarts' student body was far less intimidating than the Dark Lord, he took a deep breath and followed James into the corridor.

Once he'd made it into one of the thestral-driven carriages without being stared at by more than ninety-nine percent of the students on the platform, Severus closed the door and glared—calmly, he was still occluding—at the others. "I suppose it may have slipped your feeble minds, but did you happen to discuss our situation with _every single student_ in the school while I was sleeping?"

"Only one or two who showed up and wouldn't leave," James said. "Frank, Davey, Lily..."

"And?"

"Alice," James admitted. Severus sighed; though no gossip at the school could compare with Bertha Jenkins, seventh year Hufflepuff, Alice Greenwood was not known for keeping her mouth shut.

"They would've found out at the feast, anyway," Remus said. "You'll be sitting with us—how much more obvious can it get?"

"Just warn me next time, okay? I'm jumpy enough as it is, and I'm not looking forward to explaining a few dozen times over that I'm no longer a Death Eater."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Sirius said brightly. "Dumbledore said he'll take care of it."

Severus groaned.

All too soon they reached the castle. Severus put on the expression he'd dubbed "vaguely polite indifference" and walked with the others into the Great Hall. There were many gasps and a few protests when he settled between Remus and James at the Gryffindor table; he responded by raising an eyebrow and tapping the red and gold crest on his robes. _See, Remus—I haven't hexed anyone yet._

_Good kitty._

_Shut up, Padfoot._

Ignoring the sea of astonished students, Severus turned to survey the High Table. Dumbledore winked at him from his seat in the middle; he seemed to be enjoying the consternation of his pupils. Andromeda and Ted were at the far right, busy conversing with Professor Flitwick; Greebe sat on Dumbledore's left and did not look like he was enjoying himself at all. Severus smirked and turned to watch Hagrid enter the hall—but out of the corner of his eye he saw Greebe glare at him. _What is with that man?_

Professor McGonagall entered with the Sorting Hat, a stool and a long line of terrified first years. The Great Hall was much louder than usual—as all the students but the Marauders themselves were busy discussing why Severus Snape, quintessential Slytherin and rumored Death Eater, was sitting at Gryffindor table with the Marauders, of all people—and the Transfiguration Professor had to shoot several rounds of sparks from her wand before the noise dimmed to a hundred ill-concealed whispers. She placed the hat on the stool and stepped back, waiting for it to begin. The brim of the Sorting Hat opened and, sounding much more cheerful than usual, it began to sing...

"_They all call me the Sorting Hat, for sorting's what I do;_

_you put me on your head and then in a house I'll put you._

_Check out Hogwarts, A History and you will surely find,_

_that Godric was extremely brave and Helga very kind._

_Rowena was the cleverest and Salazar was sly,_

_but there's more to these four houses than four adjectives imply._

_For Gryffindor created me to sort you little nerds,_

_I've being doing it a thousand years and it's getting on my nerves._

'_Enlighten first years of our history' reads my job description,_

_so here's my take, I'll warn you now—it's no loving benediction._

_I could put you in Gryffindor, where from Quidditch they all stink,_

_they're known to boast of their dumb luck and leap before they think._

_Or perhaps you'll go in Hufflepuff, another boring duffer,_

_this house is there for those who can't withstand anything tougher._

_If you're a sissy teacher's pet then Ravenclaw's for you,_

_despite living neck-deep in books this lot hasn't a clue._

_Finally there's Slytherin, if you've pillaged and oppressed,_

_a cold, malicious gathering of the truly blood-obsessed._

_So step right up, come one, come all the firsties to be sorted,_

_now that you've heard the history the books have not purported._

_On that note, I doubt this is quite what Godric intended,_

_but that felt good, was overdue and now my song has ended."_

The Great Hall was completely silent. The hat bowed once, and Severus could have sworn it directed a quick, almost unnoticeable wink in his direction before it was still again. Severus felt the force of several hundred minds thinking simultaneously: "What the—?"and then the silence was broken as the Headmaster began to clap. Instantly the entire hall—excepting a few of the sterner teachers and pompous prefects—joined in the applause, which was scattered throughout with shouts of "Encore!" and bursts of laughter.

McGonagall, not looking at all happy with the hat's surprise, began the Sorting. No one at Gryffindor table paid any attention, however, because they were busy watching Sirius pick up his fork and wave it threateningly at Severus.

"Alright Severus—spill. What the hell did you do to the hat, and can you get it to do that again next year?"

"Why, Sirius. Surely you aren't implying that I would condone such an action?" Severus replied in tones of mock innocence. If he tried hard enough, he could almost ignore the others watching them; he could almost imagine he was back in the kitchen at Headquarters with no one but the other Marauders...

"It took way too long to sort you," James said. "You had to be talking about _something_—"

"Of course we were. It was teaching me the meditation techniques used by Alexander the Great."

"Really?" asked Sirius.

"No, you prat!"

"Shut up and watch the Sorting," Remus whispered. "McGonagall's giving us the evil eye."

Several minutes later "Wagtail, Susan" became a Gryffindor and Dumbledore rose to address the school.

"Welcome to the beginning of another school year," he said warmly. It comforted Severus a bit, seeing the Headmaster in the same sort of Merlin-awful, tacky robes he always wore. _When Dumbledore has decent taste in clothing then I'll know the end is near._ "Welcome back, our returning students, and welcome to Hogwarts, all you new faces. I have several start-of-term announcements to make before our feast begins. First, I should like to remind those of you with less than perfect memories that the Forbidden Forest is, unsurprisingly, still forbidden. Our caretaker, Mr. Argus Filch, has also asked me to inform you that—contrary to the beliefs of some—it is against school rules to transfigure any suit of armor into an amorphous life-form, no matter what color it is."

Sirius and James grinned and elbowed each other.

"Now I would like to take a moment to introduce you to our three new staff members: Professor Greebe, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Tonks, who will be teaching Potions, and Madam Tonks, who will be assisting Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing." Greebe and the Tonks couple nodded to the clapping students. "Yes, yes, a hearty welcome to our new faculty. I have one final announcement to make, if I may crave your indulgence for another minute. As our returning students seem to have noticed, Severus Snape has been resorted into Gryffindor."

All the eyes in the room flickered briefly towards Severus before returning to stare at Dumbledore.

"As I am sure multiple rumors have been spread concerning this event, and because I find the truth preferable to such gossip, I would like to take this moment to inform you that Severus Snape is not, and has never been, a servant of Lord Voldemort." A ripple of surprise spread throughout the room. "Rather, he was a spy for the Order of the Phoenix."

The Great Hall exploded into conversation. Dumbledore fired purple sparks from the end of his wand and there was immediate silence.

"As I was saying, all other rumors concerning Mr. Snape are undoubtedly false. His resorting occurred for reasons which, if you do not already know them, are absolutely none of your business. If I hear of anyone pestering him for more information on any of these topics, they will receive detention. And, on that note, I have been asked to make a public service announcement on behalf of Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black." Dumbledore paused to pull a bit of parchment from his sleeve. "Ah, yes. They would like to respectfully inform you that they cannot be held responsible for any serious, permanent, and/or traumatic injuries which might hypothetically be afflicted on anyone who objects to Mr. Snape's presence in Gryffindor house. They would also like to wish you a very nice day. And there's a P.S..." He squinted at the parchment. "Mr. Gudgeon, apparently you owe Mr. Black three galleons. That is all. Enjoy the feast!"

Dumbledore sat down and the golden dishes filled themselves with everything from casserole to carrots to chocolate gateau. Severus helped himself. He had always anticipated the Welcoming Feast with unusual eagerness, and though he hadn't spent this summer half-starved, he saw no reason to break with his traditional eat-as-much-as-possible-without-getting-sick approach.

The continuing stares of the Gryffindors, however, were off-putting.

"Considering that I will be here for the next three years and the feast will disappear in less than an hour, I believe that your time would be better managed if you stopped staring and ate," he remarked, casting a faint glare over the table in general. Everyone quickly became interested in pursuing either their dinners or private conversations.

_So, Severus,_ Sirius said, _did you like our note? I really ought to thank you for it; I don't think there's any other way we could've gotten away with threatening the whole school, and that was on our "to do before graduation" list. _

_It was music to my ears,_ Severus replied wistfully._ How many gaping dunderheads at this school would I like to see with serious, permanent, and/or traumatic injuries... _

_Hopefully it won't come to that,_ said Remus.

_The real test will be when we get back in the common room._ The Marauders nodded in agreement. James added: "And could someone please pass the potatoes?"

* * *

Hee hee hee. That song might be my favorite part of the whole story. It was inspired by Textualsphinx's _A Sorting Song by Severus,_ which you can find in my favorites. It is DEFINITELY worth the read. I mean, it makes mine look like something you'd find under a rock.

Also worth the read is the one-shot I'm now posting. Roughlysummarized,it's a continuation of the prologue from Dumbledore's POV, in which he muses on his relationship with Severus and how it begun.

So, no questions this chapter- just go read those two fics! Huggbees!


	26. My Uncle, My Mother, My Cousin, My

Severus: Greetings, loyal readers. I feel obliged to inform you that there has been a slight change of plans...

James: He means mutiny.

Severus: Shut it, James. Anyway, we've taken matters into our own hands and finally got this thing updated.

Sirius: Or at least we did. _He _spent half the time snoring.

Severus: Didn't you read the last chapter, mutt? I'm practically obligated to rest when I can.

Sirius: -rolls eyes-

Remus: And I'm currently going through and fixing the britpicks pointed out by our dear friend whitehound. If any other characters need an American-English translation, they should check out her very well complied webpage.

James: You forgot to put up the warnings.

Sirius: DISCLAIMER! We don't belong to anybody! Slavery's been against the law for what, a few hundred years now? You think you lot would get the idea.

Severus: Also, -reads off placard- this chapter is DEDICATED to SupportSeverusSnape and Talamh,who convinced the author to update withtheir wonderful reviews.

Remus: This is _way _too long an A/N. Can we just get on with it?

James: Righto. -hits play button-

* * *

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXV:**

_**My Uncle, My Mother, My Cousin, My Brother, My Friend, My Lover**_

Except for Remus—who had to help Evans usher the first years to Gryffindor Tower—the Marauders lingered in the corridors after the Welcoming Feast. Severus was not particularly eager to rejoin the hordes of staring, whispering idiots who hadn't a clue what they were talking about; so they took their time, and Sirius and James explained in detail why color was so important when transfiguring things into amorphous life-forms.

Eventually, however, Severus found himself standing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. She, like everyone else in the bloody school, was staring at him.

"_There_ you are!" Remus called from behind them. Severus turned to see him dash up the staircase before it could move elsewhere. "I was wondering where you lot had gotten to. I thought maybe Dumbledore had asked you to stay behind for some reason, or—"

"Password?" interrupted the Fat Lady.

"Widdershins," Remus answered automatically.

"No Moony, we were just recalling the good old days of the amoebic armor incident," Sirius said as he stepped through the portrait hole. He sighed dramatically, invoking an air of nostalgia. "Ah, back when I was your age..." James laughed and punched Sirius' shoulder; Severus followed them, hesitantly, into the unknown place that was now his common room.

It was... very... Gryffindor. Warm and bright and crowded and cheerful, with tables and squashy armchairs scattered about on the red carpet—everything from the crackling fireplace to the mismatched throw pillows to the overcrowded notice board reeked of _comfort,_ rather than the cold formality prevalent in the Slytherin commons. Severus approved. He could imagine himself here, relaxing, doing homework... being stared at by everyone else in the suddenly quiet room...

There was a flurry of movement by the fireplace, where the most influential members of Gryffindor house—the upperclassmen and Quidditch team, along with a handful of younger students—were gathered, and Lily Evans stepped forward.

"Hi. Um, I'm Lily Evans," she said, ignoring the fact that they knew each other's names perfectly well. She extended her hand and the faintest hint of a smile touched Severus' lips—_perhaps Gryffindors as a whole are not as thick as they usually appear. They've selected as their emissary the one Gryffindor uninvolved in all the inner-house bickering._

"Severus Snape."

They shook hands briefly, then Lily stepped back. "Well, they nominated me to say this: we trust Dumbledore, and the more gullible among us trust James, Sirius and Remus, so we're willing to give you a chance. However, if you don't mind, there's a few people who would feel a lot better about this whole thing if you'd show them your forearm..."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I _do _think the Headmaster's word should be enough, but if you insist." He pulled up his sleeve. Though some of the deeper cuts he'd obtained on midsummer still remained, there was no evidence of the Dark Mark. Half the room sighed in relief and Severus felt another twang of gratitude towards the Tonks couple for ridding him of that damning brand.

The silence returned for a moment, but now it was less hostile than awkward—particularly as this was the Gryffindor commons, which had probably never been so full and yet so quiet in all its history.

"You spied for the Headmaster, right? Were—were you there when You-Know-Who killed people?"

Severus stiffened, and everyone turned to see who had shattered the awkward stillness with an even more awkward question. It was a particularly tiny first year, with long dark hair and large glasses that overwhelmed her face; Severus remembered her from the Sorting—_Susan_ _Wagtail_.

"Why do you want to know?" he replied, voice dangerously cold.

Susan bit her lip but continued to hold Severus' gaze. "I'm a half-blood, and my mum and aunt are muggleborn. You-Know-Who attacked my aunt and uncle's house and because of the ruddy Ministry's Decree of Security for Threatened Persons they won't tell us anything, and it's been months and we still don't know if they're alive or dead," she said quickly. "Mum and my grandparents and everyone are all really upset, and it's just awful not knowing, and I... I was wondering if you could tell me."

Severus blinked. "Decree of Security for Threatened Persons?" he repeated. "You mean they've gone and passed a law saying they don't have to tell you whether your aunt is alive or dead?" Susan nodded and he collapsed into a nearby armchair. "That is utterly atrocious."

A number of similarly astonished and disgusted murmurs echoed throughout the room.

"Yeah, Dad complains about it all the time," James said, perching on the armrest next to him. "He says they're trying to save face by not revealing the exact number of people dead; the law forbids Ministry officials from giving out the information and they won't let the _Daily Prophet_ print complaints about it."

"So will you tell me?" Susan pleaded.

Severus stared at her a long moment, choosing his words with care. "If you want me to. But please realize that the odds of getting the answer you want are not in your favor."

"I don't care. It's been too long already—we're stuck wondering, we can't properly hope or grieve or try to move on... Nothing can be worse than not knowing."

Severus disagreed, but rather than voicing his opinion he sighed and closed his eyes. "Date of the attack, description of the house, descriptions of your aunt and uncle..."

"June fifth. Their house has blue shutters and two chimneys, it's on a grassy hill about twenty miles outside Edinburgh. My aunt is a bit overweight and has dark hair rolled up in a bun; my uncle is tall and always wears—"

"—a Chudley Cannons jersey," Severus said quietly, remembering. "And smells like tobacco."

"Yes! Yes! Are they—"

Severus opened his eyes and smiled faintly, thanking Merlin that this story, at least, had a happy ending. "The Aurors came in time; they're both fine. They'll definitely have to remodel their kitchen, though—"

Susan shrieked for joy and tried to hug him. He threw up a shield charm and she rebounded onto the floor, not seeming to mind at all. "Thank you thank you thank you _thank you!_" she shouted, grinning up at him through tears of relief.

"You are welcome. However, the next time you tackle me I shall be forced to hex you."

She just laughed again, delirious with joy, and hurried through the crowd towards Evans, asking to be led to the Owlery so she could write home to her mother. Severus took a deep breath, glad the ordeal was over, when another Gryffindor approached—a boy, third year, anxious about his cousin. Then a seventh year, worried about her best friend's mum. A fourth year, for his father's coworker. A fifth year girl, for her grandparents. Another first year, for her mum's friend's sister. A second year, for his friend's uncle. A seventh year, for her cousin. A fourth year, for his neighbor's father. A sixth year, for his girlfriend's aunt. A second year, for her father. A seventh year, for his sister's fiancé. A fifth year, for her friend's cousin.

The questions kept coming, always accompanied by a pair of pleading eyes, some more desperate than others—"Are they alive? Is he dead? Are they okay? Is she safe?"—and Severus hadn't the slightest idea how this was happening; all his energy was focused on placating so many eyes; he felt as though he was fighting a mental current, trying not to drown in the vivid images of horror and death, the memories he spent every waking moment trying to forget. Now the common room carpet was stained with tears, and for every first year crying in happiness, a second year, third year, fourth year, fifth year, sixth year and seventh year were mourning—some silently, without tears; others cried out in great gasping sobs and fled to their dormitories. Many were writing letters, both of joy and grief, to their families; some sought out friends or siblings in other houses to tell them the news, which of course spread...

He was dimly aware of the Marauders flanking him—James and Sirius sitting at his side, Remus behind him, hands on his shoulders—trying to offer whatever support they could. They were the ones Evans told when she discovered there was a crowd forming outside.

The first Severus knew of it was when he blinked and noticed the line of Gryffindors had vanished. _Is it done? Are they done?_

He felt Remus' presence in his mind. _All the Gryffindors, yes. The mob of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs outside is another matter. James, Sirius and Lily are trying to get them in some semblance of order—we're dangerously close to curfew for the younger ones, so they need to go first. Severus..._ he hesitated, _are you okay with this? Not that I disapprove, but it's gotten way out of hand..._

_We can't choose our own penance,_ Severus commented dryly. Sirius appeared at the portrait hole and motioned for him to come outside, where he was startled to see over a third of the school waiting in two impatient, nervous lines.

Then it began all over again. He leapt from one nightmarish memory to another, the time limit reducing his answers to a simple "They're alive" or "I'm sorry". Severus refused to elaborate; those he answered with the former phrase did not require elaboration, and those who heard the latter would not be consoled by learning their loved ones had, in the majority of cases, been brutally tortured to death.

He had not the slightest idea how much time had passed, though the students he was speaking to were older now, his own age... Someone pressed a cold glass into his hand and he blinked thrice before realizing that it was water, it was from Sirius, and his voice was hoarse. Severus drank half the water in quick, shallow gulps, murmured _thanks_ in Sirius' mind and held the glass out.

Sirius did not take it. Instead he stiffened, turning to face the shadows of the corridor and pulling his wand from his pocket. "Who's there?" A pair of students stepped away from the wall, revealing the Slytherin crest on their robes. "What do _you_ want?" Sirius snarled. Several others in line drew their wands as well.

"Padfoot."

Sirius turned about sharply. "Yes?"

"Shut the hell up." Severus looked past his friend to the unflinching pair. He nodded in acknowledgement. "Durand. Andreana."

They nodded in acknowledgement as well—nothing more. Even a second year Slytherin knew the value of neutrality.

"Do you know anything about Annora Vide?" the taller figure, Durand, asked.

"She's dead."

"Raymond Sandon?"

"Dead."

"Hadrian Quentin?"

"Alive." They sighed in relief, thanked Severus with their eyes, and left as quickly as they'd come. Severus continued on as if nothing had happened; but as he answered the last dozen questions, his mind was calmly and gently collapsing under the strain of yet another set of memories, as he felt for all those who didn't know what to think or who to believe, those who had lost loved ones on both sides of the conflict. Annora Vide and Raymond Sandon had both died at the Dark Lord's hand; one in his service, one in defiance... _and do two second year Slytherins with friends on both sides have the slightest idea what to do, of course not..._

And then, all at once, the corridor was empty. He blinked, but everyone had gone... everyone except James, Remus and Sirius.

"Come on," Remus said quietly. "Let's go to bed."

Severus let Remus steer him through the empty common room, up a winding stairway and into their dormitory. He collapsed, raw and empty, on his bed, and lay there unmoving, unthinking, as the others prepared for sleep.

A hundred thousand nightmares flitted pointlessly through his mind. Nightmares, memories, memories of nightmares... they were all the same. Remembering was dangerous, and oh, how much had he remembered tonight...

Remus' face appeared in his line of vision, disrupting his view of the perfect red canopy that draped over his bed like the blood of so many...

Remus' eyes were concerned and he was about to say something Severus decided he didn't want to hear. So he transformed and glided across the room to curl up in a quivering heap of fur at the foot of Remus' bed. He heard voices prodding his ears and mind; then the dormitory lights faded out and it was quiet.

He felt the covers move as Remus climbed into bed. Everything was still. Severus' feet, acting of their own accord, pulled him up and walked across the duvet. He resettled on the pillow by Remus' head, where he could twitch his ears and hear the werewolf's breathing, open his eyes and see the rise and fall of his chest—know in an instant that his friends were still alive, that it was just another bloody living nightmare in this universe of bloody living nightmares...

Severus closed his eyes, knowing sleep would elude him for hours if not the rest of the night.

_Cats can't cry._

He did not know whether this was cause to rejoice or collapse in a mess of impossible tears.

* * *

Sorry it took so long to update. I was in New York City (why does everyone in NYC have a dog?), then I had approximately 3,000 projects due, then finals, then college registration, graduation, parties,I got my first job, and tomorrow we're going on vacation to Arizona. But don't worry- I loaded the story onto my flash drive to bring and I'll try to update relatively soon. The things I do for ya'll... Though you deserve it after this break.

Also, I wasn't kidding above. I know lots of people put big "give me X reviews and I'll update soon" signs right about here, but honestly, you lot can guilt me into updating fairly easily. I'm very guilt-prone. Feel free to email me and complain, it'll probably work. (Since the story's 90 percent complete the actual writing isn't much of an issue...)

Anyway. Sorry for the two huge author's notes. Though I personally thought the first one was funny. Now, the dumb questions:

What's good? Bad? Reminds you of Freud? Or celery? What will happen to Nymphadora? Will the plot ever come together in a coherent fashion? Will the author get three thousand emails tomorrow demanding an update? Who killed Mr. Boddy? And why does everyone in NYC have a dog?


	27. The Potions Class That Did Not Result In

Oi. Sorry for the wait. I was abroad, with no internet access. (I about tore my hair out in agony.)

DISCLAIMER: If I owned Harry Potter, I could afford internet access on remote Caribbean islands.

DEDICATION: To Carol J and Layelleswen, for emailing to make me update. (Yes, to you it may have seemed forever, but I got home from the airport less than an hour ago, so... yeah.)

P.S. I updated, Layelleswen, so yah bettah review, mon. Oi.

P.P.S. Huggbees.

**

* * *

**

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXVI:**

_**The Potions Class That Did Not Result in a Trip to the Hospital Wing**_

Severus sat in an armchair before the common room fire, thinking. The Marauders stood behind him, holding long scrolls of parchment that rolled out in waves across the floor. On the parchment were millions of names listed in blood-red ink; the Sorting Hat appeared in the fire and started insulting them in alphabetical order. After it finished explaining that "Wagtail, Susan!" was a stuck-up, conceited little brat, she appeared on the rug at his feet, crying and begging for mercy. The hat laughed at her and grew a nose and hair and suddenly looked very much like his father. He began cursing her, and she screamed, and Severus could do nothing but sit and watch as she transformed into Nymphadora, still screaming; he tried to scream too but his father just laughed again and hit him with the Cruciatus and his bones started melting onto the floor. The Death Eaters encircled them both, cursing them and laughing, laughing...

_Severus? Severus, you're having a nightmare. Wake up. WAKE UP!_

The voice derailed Severus' thoughts. He snapped into wakefulness like a rubber band, tried to sit up and promptly fell flat on his tail. From that position he glanced upward, noting that the sun was shining through the windows and Remus was already dressed. And he was still Skittles. Severus transformed and was startled to find his hands tangled within a thoroughly shredded pillow.

Remus pulled it off. "Don't worry, the house elves can fix anything. You started attacking it in your sleep—maybe we should have you declawed," he joked. Severus didn't say anything. Remus frowned and sat on the bed beside him. "Feel any better?" he asked gently. "You were a bit out of it last night."

"Define 'a bit'. And I do feel better, if not wonderful—nothing another seven hours of sleep wouldn't cure."

Remus sighed wistfully. "If only we were that lucky. Come on and get changed; James and Sirius are already downstairs."

Severus complied and soon they were walking into the Great Hall. The atmosphere in the room was noticeably solemn, though many—Sirius and James included—seemed to be making an extra effort to be cheerful and lighten the mood. As was evidenced by the saucers racing each other up and down the length of Gryffindor table.

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Black!"

Severus jumped; Professor McGonagall had seemingly materialized out of the thin air on his right. She glared at James and Sirius, who flashed her his most charming grin and batted his eyelashes. "Oh Professor, I missed you too!"

"I'm sure. Ten points from Gryffindor and here are your course schedules." Severus accepted the offered parchment, occupied his plate with eggs and some toast, and began to survey the timetable.

Remus elbowed him. "Hey, looks like you'll get some more sleep after all—we've got History of Magic first thing."

"It's first on Thursday, too," Evans added unexpectedly, sliding onto the bench beside Remus. "Two chances to sleep in."

Sirius snorted. "So much for the prefects' good influence." He ignored James' indignant response on Evan's behalf, turning to Severus instead. _You doing okay?_

Severus nodded but their attention was quickly diverted by a yell from the other end of the table. "James! Sirius! Quidditch meeting Saturday at five—we're getting a head start this year!" Frank Longbottom received two jaunty salutes in reply and the topic of conversation switched to Quidditch. Sirius lamented the loss of his fellow beater, Mark Chang, who had graduated the previous year, and James had just begun explaining why the replacement of the Seeker was far more important when the post arrived.

There were more letters than usual, which was not surprising, considering the abnormal number of owls sent home the night before. What Severus hadn't anticipated was the sleek black owl that swooped over his head, dropped an envelope in his eggs and flew off.

The envelope was bright red and beginning to smoke. Severus picked it up with two fingers, studying it at arm's length; the other Marauders saw it and groaned.

"Merlin. Not _again_," Sirius said. "Not here, not now... Can't he leave you alone?"

Evans paused in buttering her toast, looking at the envelope curiously. "Leave who alone? Is that a Howler? Why would anyone be sending you a—"

The letter exploded.

_"YOU SNIVELING PATHETIC WASTE OF OXYGEN! FREAK OF NATURE! DISGUSTING SPECIMEN OF BOTCHED GENETICS—"_

The laughter and knowing glances so commonly associated with Howlers faded quickly, as those in the Great Hall realized that this was not your typical telling-you-off-for-your-own-good message. Severus watched calmly, fingers interlocked and resting in his lap, as the parchment continued to spew its litany of insults. He'd discovered that that was the easiest, most dignified way to get through almost any crisis...

_"—GOOD-FOR-NOTHING, WORTHLESS, MISERABLE FUCKING BASTARD AND THAT'S ALL YOU'LL EVER BE! DO YOU HONESTLY THINK THOSE MUDBLOOD-LOVING IMBECILES SEE YOU AS ANYTHING MORE THAN A TOOL, AS ANYTHING MORE THAN THE RANCID, DISGUSTING EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING YOU ARE?"_

_Not true,_ Remus said immediately. _You know that's not—_

_I know, Remus._

_"YOU MAY HAVE WON THE BATTLE, SEVERUS, BUT DON'T THINK THE WAR HAS ENDED! I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE, AND YOU'LL BE BEGGING FOR DEATH ON BENDED KNEE WHEN I'M THROUGH WITH YOU!"_

At that the Howler exploded in a mess of swirling red smoke which loomed menacingly overhead and shaped itself into the Dark Mark for the slightest moment before disappearing. Several people screamed, the teachers frowned and the student population immersed itself in wild speculation.

"What—who was that?" Evans asked shakily.

"None of your business," Sirius answered promptly. Then he sighed. "Well, this day is getting off to a _great_ start."

Severus—who had been hoping he would not attract _quite_ as much attention as he had the day before—agreed. A glance along the High Table told him he was not the only one; McGonagall and Dumbledore were engaged in serious conversation, Andromeda looked positively furious, and Greebe—

Greebe smirked.

Or Severus thought he did. A half-second later the expression was gone... but Severus trusted his instincts and they were screeching in his ears. He had not imagined the smirk.

Severus kept one eye on the Defense Professor until the fifth year Gryffindors left for History of Magic.

* * *

History of Magic is a class well-remembered by generations of Hogwarts alumni. The _Daily Prophet_ did a survey once and found that ninety-nine point eight percent of Britain's adult wizarding population unconsciously associated the words "History of Magic" and "boredom"—a trend so well documented, in fact, that a team of Ministry researchers attended several of Hogwarts' N.E.W.T. and O.W.L.-level History of Magic classes to see if they could discover: 1. the meaning of boredom, 2. boredom's effects on the human mind, and 3. how to prevent it from incapacitating their security guards.

The study was a disastrous failure, because not one of the dozen researchers managed to stay awake through an entire History of Magic class. The one thing they did learn, however, was that boredom drives teenagers to extreme measures: in this case a centuries-old tradition of "you take notes today, I'll do it next Wednesday"—"throw in a chocolate frog and you've got a deal"-type bargains. Their award-winning paper, The Effect of Professor Binns on Wizards Unconscious, also noted that this underground you-scratch-my-back-and-I'll-scratch-yours system was even employed by those students not prone towards copying homework or other such misdemeanors—prefects, for instance.

Which is why Severus did get an extra hour of sleep during History of Magic, secure in the knowledge that Remus' notes would, unlike James', be legible, and, unlike Sirius', pertain to the subject at hand.

He thought about this as he descended into the dungeons for Potions, simply because it was a better thing to think about than his father's Howler—or last night's memories—or the hordes of whispering idiots who were still gaping at him. _You'd think I was a newly-discovered species. If they don't stop staring I swear the next one will get a curse right in the—_

_Think calm thoughts, Severus, _James advised.

_Yeah, _Sirius agreed._ Think about the giant squid going on a rampage, eating the house-elves and streaking through the Great Hall._

_Um... _

Severus was spared the effort of replying when they rounded the corner. There stood against one wall the remaining Gryffindors, and against the other nearly a dozen of his former housemates—all glaring at him. Silence fell thick and heavy over the corridor and wands were drawn.

Fortunately, Ted chose that moment to throw open the door and wave them all inside. There Severus found he _was_ calmed by the familiar atmosphere: the smell of potion ingredients, the cooler air, the solid, practical, oak desks... He dropped his schoolbag to the floor, grabbed Sirius' arm and pulled him onto the bench beside him. James, Remus, the other Gryffindors and even a few Slytherins sighed in relief; Sirius was infamously horrible at Potions and it was a rare week indeed when he didn't melt down or blow up his cauldron, frequently resulting in class trips to the Hospital Wing. They were obviously hopeful that Severus would discontinue that trend.

"Welcome," said Ted, shutting the door with a flick of his wand, "to fifth year Potions. My name, if you have forgotten, is Ted Tonks. Normally I would now give you a lengthy and tedious lecture about the importance of preparing for your O.W.L.S., but as I'm sure you will receive many such lectures this week, I will simply say this: work hard, and Merlin be with you."

He received a smattering of laughter and some grins from the Gryffindor half of the room.

"I've had a note from Professor Slughorn about you lot; apparently you're a fairly quick bunch and some of you even do your homework. So today we're going to be brewing the Babbling Beverage. This potion contains both armadillo bile and mugwort, an unusual and usually combustible combination due to the—"

Severus' mind began to wander as Ted summarized the theory behind the Babbling Beverage. His eyes drifted around the room, surveying the usual collection of slimy ingredients floating in their preserves. He noted idly that the Gulon eyes had spoiled and needed replacing.

"—instructions are in your book, page two hundred and forty-two. You may work in pairs; ingredients are in the cupboards—begin."

Severus turned to Sirius, who seemed to have slipped into daydream-land approximately the same time he had. "Did you listen to a word of that?"

"You didn't either."

"I know it already. You don't. Now, I suggest you open your book and see what ingredients you need to procure."

Sirius frowned at him, looking suspicious. "You aren't going to help me brew it, are you."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "I most certainly am. I am going to tell you what you're doing wrong, why, and how to do it correctly; and I'm going to keep you from setting your cauldron on fire. That's very helpful."

"That's not fair... you ought to do your share of the work!"

"You need the practice far more than I do if you want to pass your O.W.L.."

"I could just let it explode and we'd both fail—"

"And I could partner Remus next class."

Sirius glared at him a moment longer before stomping over to the cupboards. Severus smiled and stretched his arms above his head luxuriously. _Ah, the joys of education._

* * *

An hour and twenty minutes later Sirius was nervous, sweating, and seemed on the verge of mental breakdown. He had also—for the first time since anyone could remember—received full marks on a practical potions assignment.

Severus patted his shoulder. "There, see? It wasn't that bad, was it?"

Sirius stared at him incredulously. "I think I prefer failing."

"No offense, Padfoot, but I agree with Severus," said James. "I'm rather fond of my skin, you know, and the less time I spend in the Hospital Wing getting it reattached the better."

"And you won't have to buy so many new cauldrons this year," Remus added. "You can probably afford twice as many Dungbombs..." Sirius' face brightened at the thought and Severus' groan was lost in the clamor of the bell. He was waiting for the others to finish gathering their belongings when Ted approached.

"I'd like a word, Severus, if you don't mind. You three can go on to lunch; I'll make sure we get to the Great Hall in one piece."

Once they'd left Ted charmed the door closed and sat down beside Severus, smiling tiredly.

"How's Nymphadora?" Severus asked.

"Still just fine, thank God. She hasn't shown any signs of illness—on the contrary, she was more excited about moving to Hogwarts than any of us—and she threw an absolute fit when we told her she wouldn't be able to attend the Welcoming Feast. Dumbledore thought the student body would receive quite enough surprises without a six year-old in attendance, and he didn't even know about the Sorting Hat." Ted grinned. "That was certainly a memorable song, wasn't it? I'll have to get the full story from you some day. But for now..."

He stood up and motioned for Severus to follow him. They walked through the deserted dungeon corridors, past the Potion master's office, to a painting of a Jarvey chasing a garden's worth of gnomes.

"Password password gimme password you bloody overstuffed lump of lard with cobwebs for brains!" the overgrown ferret hissed.

"Federico's Famous Aftershave," said Ted. The Jarvey hissed again and the painting swung open, revealing a small but magnificently equipped potions lab. Severus followed Ted inside as he continued: "We'll work in here. Now, I've been told off by Andromeda and Dumbledore for neglecting my health and especially yours..."

Severus immediately began denying that three six-hour work shifts a day were detrimental to his health. Ted let him finish talking, then continued as before: "...and especially yours, so we're going to set a limited schedule and see how things go. If it is agreeable, I would like you here in the hours between dinner and Astronomy on Wednesday evenings, and from seven to lunch on Saturday and Sunday mornings—we'll have to be flexible during Quidditch season, of course. If that's too much I'll cut back; if not we might start adding sessions before breakfast, that seems like the most convenient time." Severus nodded.

"Very good then. One last stop on our little tour; I want to show you where my quarters are located, just in case you ever need to contact me." Ted held the portrait open for Severus, then climbed through himself and began leading the way up into the airier floors of the castle. "On a related topic," he said as they walked, "it has come to me, after many milliseconds of deep thinking with my immeasurable brainpower, the startling truth: that anyone who can brew Felix Felicis is completely wasting their time in an O.W.L.-level potions class."

"Hmm. Astonishing conclusion." Severus feigned surprise at this discovery as they headed up a flight of stairs.

"Actually, I doubt it's a _complete _waste of time—if you keep working with Sirius the way you did today, we might make it through the year without the floor melting. And who knows, he might even pass his O.W.L.. But nevertheless—ah, here we are."

Ted paused in front of a stretch of seemingly-boring stone wall, flanked on either side by suits of armor. He tickled the left one under its chin and a door appeared, immediately swinging open as Andromeda leapt through to kiss him.

"What took you so long, love? I was getting worried—how did your first two classes go? Did you get a chance to talk to—Severus! I didn't see you, hiding back there—come in, come in—Nymphadora's missed you, dear. Are you two staying for lunch?"

"Not today," Ted said, stepping through the doorway. "I promised his friends I'd get him to the Great Hall when we were done."

"Well, there's always tomorrow," Andromeda said, looking slightly disappointed. "Do feel free to drop in anytime, Severus."

Severus nodded, feeling slightly overwhelmed. He took the moment to glance about the Tonks' living quarters.

One wall was partially filled with an impressive collection of books and knick-knacks scattered about the shelves; another held large windows that offered an excellent view of the lake between their blue curtains. A sofa draped with warm, heavy blankets and half-read books sat near a pair of armchairs, a potted flitterbloom and someone's shoes. The rug was covered with randomly connected bits of a jigsaw puzzle, and above his head a toy snitch was bumping lightly against the ceiling. There were at least a dozen framed pictures scattered about the room, mostly of Nymphadora—laughing, playing, smiling and waving with her mum and dad...

The Tonks' quarters looked more like, _well, a home,_ than anywhere Severus could recall visiting, and for some reason the sight caused a rather painful ache in his chest.

"Ah, yes. Well, as I was saying, Severus—you need to keep attending fifth year Potions to prevent Sirius from killing himself and to prevent everyone else from getting suspicious, but nevertheless there is no reason you should waste an afternoon on the essay I assigned today, or on any of the homework your friends will receive this year. Instead..." Ted pointed to a massive stack of books sitting on the dining table behind them, "...you get to read all these. Aren't you lucky? Dumbledore said you're fluent in Latin, which I sorely hope is correct, because I have an absolutely terrible head for languages and a lot of the early research dealing with Albion's Quandary was documented by authors who couldn't be bothered to put simple translation spells into their works."

"I doubt he'll have a problem _reading_ them," Andromeda said dryly. "It's whether he can _carry _them all..."

"Nonsense—they have feather-light charms on them." Ted swept his wand towards the books and they flew into Severus' bag, which, though bulging, was indeed as light as before. "And where's Nymphadora got to?"

"She's in her room, reading to Kitty—"

Andromeda's statement was immediately contradicted by a quickly-concealed giggle. Ted raised an eyebrow. "That's a shame," he said loudly, "since we have to leave in a minute and I'm sure she would have liked to see Severus—"

A pigtailed blur rushed out from behind the sofa and tackled Severus' legs. "I _got _you!" Nymphadora declared triumphantly.

"Yes, I suppose you did," Severus agreed. Nymphadora began describing her day so far in animated detail while Andromeda and Ted discussed the healing potions Pomphrey was in need of.

"And that's that," Andromeda said two minutes later. "Come on, Nymphadora—we need to go talk to Madame Pomphrey."

Nymphadora shook her head and pouted. "No. I wanna stay with Daddy and Severus."

Andromeda sighed and turned towards Ted. "She _has_ been cooped up in here for the last two days, and we'll have to introduce her to the students eventually. Would you mind...?"

"Not at all."

And so Severus found himself entering the Great Hall between the Potions Professor and his energetic daughter. He was for some reason unsurprised when Nymphadora followed him to the Gryffindor table and squeezed in between him and Sirius; he could not say the same of everyone else in the room.

"Hi, Nymphadora," Remus said. "What's she doing here?"

Severus shrugged. "Following me around, I suppose. Ask her."

"Is she supposed to be over here?" Sirius asked, twitching uncomfortably. "People are staring..."

"People have been staring at me since the moment I stepped off the Hogwarts Express," Severus said. "They're staring at me right now." Half the table turned away guiltily. "And if they must then I'd rather it be because of Nymphadora than anything to do with the Dark Lord."

"Who is she?" Evans asked, leaning across Greenwood and Longbottom for a better view of the rather short newcomer.

"I'm Nymphadora," she said proudly.

"The Tonks' daughter," James answered. "And Sirius' cousin. And Severus' loyal servant." Severus made protesting noises through a mouthful of sandwich. "Well she actually _listens_ to you, Sev. It's unnerving—"

"Who are _you?_"

"I'm Lily Evans. It's a pleasure to meet you, Nymphadora."

"Ohhhhh," Nymphadora said knowingly. "You're the lady James is madly in love with!"

Evan's eyes went wide. Remus choked on his pumpkin juice, James turned bright red and Sirius laughed.

"It's so _romantic,_" Nymphadora sighed."He talks about you all the time and he wrote a poem about you and he was going to send you flowers and—"

James clamped a hand around her mouth. "_Make her shut up,_" he hissed to Severus.

"Why?"

"—and—_mmmph_—and he said you—_mmmmph_—prettiest girl in the whole—_mmmph_—"

"No, do tell," said Greenwood, looking intrigued. "How long has this been going on?"

Evan's eyes were still very wide and she was staring at James as if she'd never seen anything like him before.

James groaned and disappeared under the tablecloth.

* * *

There, wasn't that worth the wait?

Reviewers: Yes. Update the next chapter _soon_ or thou shalt dieee! Any questions?

Yes.

How is ya'll's summer going? Will James/Lily ever happen? Will Nymphadora slay the dragon? Will Severus slay Pettigrew? What is the Ultimate Question? Is the canoe wooden, or aluminum?


	28. James and Sirius Demonstrate What's

DISCLAIMER: -insert musical interlude- It's noooooooottttt miiiiiiiineeeee!

DEDICATION: Jecir and saiorlianna, as they were the only two to get the "is the canoe wooden, or aluminum?" reference. (Google 'Song of the Saboo', peeps!)

-it's not letting me insert lines here today so pretend this is a lineeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXVII: 2698**

_**James and Sirius Demonstrate What's Inherently Fun About a Bowlful of Peas**_

"—most famous example, of course, is the kelpie of Loch Ness, which takes the form of a sea serpent, rendering the Placement Charm useless. In this situation one should employ an alternate method—"

It appeared, Severus thought drearily, to be another year in which they wouldn't learn a single bloody thing in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Not that Greebe was quite as scatterbrained as Professor Pendergrass had been—he, at least, did not try to convince them that giants could be overcome with a Patronus charm—but his lectures were about as interesting as Binns', and his practical demonstrations revealed nothing but the fact that he was clearly the most unqualified professor Severus had ever had the displeasure of meeting. _Honestly, what Hogwarts professor has ever botched an Expelliarmus? Or an Accio?_ He was so poor a wizard that Severus had been forced to seriously reevaluate whether he still thought the man was a threat—but every time he was in Greebe's presence he felt a twinge of instinctive unease that had nothing to do with the professor's lack of manners.

Or the fact that he gave ridiculous amounts of homework.

"—obviously futile, which leads us to Trimble's next point, concerning the likelihood of encountering these beasts while _not_ in possession of your wand and how—"

On Severus' right, Sirius and James were involved in a complicated game of something that looked similar to hangman but seemed to involve inflicting more atrocities on animated stick-people. Remus sat at his left, twiddling a quill in his hand and staring at his notes, which meandered aimlessly across the parchment, often deteriorating into doodles. At the front of the room were the fifth year Ravenclaws, studious as ever; but the table beside them was occupied by the other Gryffindors, those he had met just recently—the girls.

They were a mixed lot. Lily Evans had an echoing laugh Severus found annoying, but she was perpetually friendly and treated him no differently than the other Marauders. She was intelligent as well, and had been the first in their class to master the Silencing Charm. Her friend Alice Greenwood still hadn't managed it. Greenwood was a larger, louder presence than Evans; though she seemed suspicious of Severus and was carefully polite in his presence, she was still tolerable. Intolerable were Gladys Gudgeon and Veronica Smethley. They were worse than intolerable; they were awful. Inseparable, blond, vacuous bimbos who personified "clueless," they didn't even bother to keep their voices down when discussing him in his presence.

Severus had hoped that the school would stop scrutinizing his every move by the end of the first week, but it was already Friday and the interest in him showed no signs of dissipating. After all, it _was_ only the first week, there had been no great scandals or other interesting rumors so far, and thus Gudgeon and Smethley's ilk seemed content to discuss Severus Snape, Severus Snape the spy, Severus Snape the Death Eater, Severus Snape and why do you think he was resorted, Severus Snape and how on earth did he become friends with the Marauders, Severus Snape and Merlin he knew everyone we asked about Sunday night, Severus Snape and whoever do you think sent him that Howler, and Severus Snape and did you know he knows the new Potions Professor that's right I saw him with Tonks' daughter whats-her-name the other day—

After spending so many years in the shadows, Severus found this spotlight blisteringly hot, and several times over the course of the preceding week he had come very close to standing up and shouting at them all to shut the hell up and mind their own pixie's nest unless they wanted an Unforgivable Curse up the nose.

Remus had interfered, fortunately, but Severus was still not very fond of "the clueless duo" and had resolved to ignore them as much as possible.

Severus' thoughts and Greebe's lecture were interrupted by the bell.

"Homework! Twenty inches on the various methods of repelling kelpie attacks—due Tuesday morning!"

Sirius groaned and began complaining as soon as they'd left the classroom. "_Twenty inches!_ Merlin, it's just the first week back! I swear they must have life insurance on us, why else would they be trying to work us to death—"

"Well, it is O.W.L. year—"

"But that's no reason for everyone around here to be acting so depressed, Moony," James said. "I mean, we _do_ have a ton of homework, and the _Prophet is_ nothing but bad news and more bad news, and You-Know-Who _is_ after Sev's blood, but still—what's the point of life without a few laughs?"

"To do things besides laugh, I suppose," Severus said dryly as they headed down the stairs towards the Great Hall. Remus was frowning slightly, and James and Sirius seemed to be giving each other more knowing glances than was usual...

"All right," said Remus, "what do you two know that we don't?"

"Well..." James grinned wickedly. "I'm sure you remember yesterday in Charms, when Flitwick promised thirty points to whatever house could demonstrate the Weightless Charm first?"

"Let's just say it's going to be a very interesting dinner," Sirius said, pushing open the door and leading the way to Gryffindor table.

Remus and Severus exchanged half-amused, half-exasperated glances as the rest of the students and faculty arrived. Two minutes later the clock struck the hour, dinner appeared on the tables, began to float _off_ the tables, and all hell promptly broke loose.

Amusement won the contest of Severus' emotions. It was juvenile, to be sure, but there was something inherently fun about a bowlful of peas that would float slowly off in whatever direction you pushed them. He snagged a chicken leg from mid-air and started eating, watching the show about him.

The Hufflepuffs were taking it in stride, drinking their milk—which remained mercifully uncharmed—and playing hot potato with floating potatoes. The older Ravenclaws were using the counter-charm on whatever they wanted to eat, and all the younger years had apparently decided that the conditions were right for a food fight—particularly the Gryffindors and Slytherins, who were flicking carrots and spitting gravy at each other with less-than-perfect accuracy. Every prefect who tried to restore order received a face-full of Yorkshire pudding. At the High Table, Dumbledore looked as though he was trying to contain a smile, Greebe was resolutely stone-faced despite the piece of roast chicken floating by his ear, and Andromeda and Ted were restraining Nymphadora from finger-painting in midair with the casserole.

Needless to say, Professor McGonagall was not pleased.

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Black!" she snapped, striding towards their table while ducking another cloud of peas and a stray potato. "What is the meaning of this?"

James and Sirius were grinning too broadly to deny involvement. "Professor Flitwick offered thirty points to the first students able to demonstrate the Weightless Charm," Sirius said. "We thought we might get extra points for demonstrating it on such a grand scale!"

McGonagall turned towards Flitwick for confirmation. "I did promise, Minerva," he squeaked, barely visible behind the High Table. "Thirty points to Gryffindor!"

Rubies fell with a clatter into the Gryffindor hourglass and the Transfiguration Professor pressed her lips together tightly. "Detention, both of you—be in my office at seven tomorrow morning." She turned sharply on her heel and was immediately smacked in the face by a large blob of Yorkshire pudding.

-pretend this is another lineeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-

"But it _was_ funny, you have to admit that—"

"Yes, Lily, but it was a miracle they didn't lose more points than they earned. We've lost the cup for two years now because they can't act their age—and they may have some deal with Snape but they'll be back to cursing the rest of the Slytherins by Monday—"

Severus twitched his furry ear towards the far corner of the Gryffindor common room. There sat Evans, Greenwood, Longbottom and Gudgeon, huddled together over a piece of parchment and speaking in suspiciously hushed tones. He slid out from under Remus' armchair and started walking towards them.

"That's another thing," Evans said. "Do we include Snape in this?"

"Why not? Any reason to hex him—"

"_Davey!_"

"Spy or not, he's the same greasy, sarcastic git he's always been. I don't see why they put up with him—"

"What does the petition say?" Longbottom interrupted. "Does it say 'the Marauders' or does it list them by name?"

"It says 'Marauders'," Evans admitted.

"Well then, we just have to see if he's a Marauder," Greenwood said cheerfully, standing up. She loomed over Severus like a giant, awkward skyscraper; he dodged nimbly around her legs and jumped onto her vacated chair. "I'll go ask them now."

The Gryffindors watched as Alice Greenwood strolled across the room towards James, Sirius and Remus, who were having an animated discussion about Quidditch by the fireplace. She spoke with them briefly before walking back across the room—with the Marauders in tow.

"And why exactly do you want to know?" Sirius was asking.

"Because," Greenwood said with flourish, "if he is, quote, a _Marauder_, unquote, he is included in the petition." She, Longbottom and Gudgeon smiled triumphantly. Sirius, Remus and James blinked.

"What petition?"

"You know what petition!" Longbottom said. "The one we gave you at the end of last year! The one about pranking!"

Comprehension dawned on the Marauders' faces. "Oh, _that_ petition," James agreed. "Um, what about it?"

"You lot can't be _that_ thick," Gudgeon spat. "You completely violated it. You pulled another stupid gag and got in trouble—and we promised you last year, if you lose us house points we're going to pay you back triple. Besides, you get people hurt and you make the Slytherins want to kill us all—"

"They didn't lose any house points," Remus pointed out.

"And we'd never hurt anyone on purpose," James added. "Except Slytherins, of course, but they deserve it, and they want to kill us all anyway—"

"What about Bertram Aubrey?" Evans asked. "You did hurt her, she's a _Ravenclaw_ and she did nothing to you!"

"She insulted me!" said Sirius. "She said I looked like a donkey with a wand shoved up my—"

"—but you _do_, Sirius," interrupted Longbottom, "and that's no excuse to go around swelling up people's heads. But that's beside the point. You violated the agreement, and all these people," he swept his hand across the lengthy list of signatures at the bottom of the parchment, "are now going to prank you over and over until you see how stupid it is and are desperate enough to give it up anyway."

"Ha!" Sirius laughed. "Half the people on here are prefects—like you, Lily. You'd never do anything to get in trouble—"

"You may not have noticed," Greenwood pointed out sweetly, "but Professor McGonagall signed this as well. She's on _our_ side."

The Marauders gaped for a moment. "We'll never surrender," James declared.

"Never," Sirius agreed. "Jokes are more important than winning the house cup. They make life interesting—"

"We'll _make_ you surrender," said Gudgeon. "We'll—"

"Um, everybody?" Remus said quietly. "No offense, but this entire prank war idea is really, really thick. I mean," he added quickly, "we're all Gryffindors, none of us are going to back down—all this is going to do is make it worse and worse."

"He has a point," Greenwood said after a minute. "What do _you_ think we should do?"

Remus bit his lip for a moment, staring at the ground. "If you lot absolutely must go through with this," he said finally, "then I suppose... Well, the whole idea was to see who was best at pranking, right? So make it a contest instead of a battle. Make rules and stuff—keep it clean."

"Rules?" Gudgeon said skeptically.

"Right," Longbottom answered. "We each pull one prank a week—till the week before the first Hogsmeade weekend. That's five. If we win, you lot give up your prank obsession for the rest of the semester—"

"And if we win," James said, suddenly smiling broadly, "Lily and I go to Hogsmeade together that first weekend."

Everyone in the group turned to stare at Evans, who blushed but nodded.

"Okay," Greenwood said, "so how do we know who's won?"

"Whoever pulls the most spectacular prank each week," Sirius said. "Then we'll tally up who won the most weeks—and if you get caught by a teacher who doesn't know what you're doing, that week is disqualified."

"And you're disqualified if you hurt anyone," Evans added with a glance at James and Sirius.

"Deal," James said, holding out his hand. Longbottom shook it. Severus sighed in relief. _An argument between Gryffindors ended without bloodshed, who would've thought...?_

"—unless it's Snape, of course," Gudgeon added. The Marauders' expressions instantly darkened.

"What do you have against Severus?" James asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Frankly I don't see what there is to have _for_ him. Once a greasy git, always a greasy git—you may say he's on the right side now but I don't believe a word of it."

"So Dumbledore's word isn't enough to satisfy an arrogant arse with chicken dung for brains? Wow, I'm surprised," Sirius snarled.

"I don't see why it should be enough for anybody!" Gudgeon shouted, leaping to his feet. "You haven't told us _anything_ about why he's suddenly your favorite little pet Slytherin—what'd he do, Confound you? Or just keep you under the Cruciatus until you lost what little mind you had—"

"And why is it any of your business in the first place?" James spat. "Why do you think Dumbledore should confide everything to _you—_"

"Where is Snape _now,_ then?" Gudgeon demanded, pointing around the hushed room. "How do you know he's not out somewhere with You-Know-Who right at this very moment?"

"He wouldn't do that, you arrogant berk!"

"And would _you_ have believed that just four months ago? Hell no!" Gudgeon shouted. "You know something we don't, and until I hear it I trust Severus Snape about as much as I'd trust a dementor!" He stomped past James and Sirius and up the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory. A moment later they heard a door slam.

Severus scanned the silent common room. Almost everyone looked angry and disgusted; half—including Longbottom and Greenwood—seemed to agree with Gudgeon; the others seemed furious that Dumbledore's judgment had been questioned. Evans looked as though she hadn't the slightest idea what to believe.

"There's a cat on my chair," Greenwood said. The Marauders blinked again—they hadn't realized Severus was present—and the absurd obviousness of her statement was enough to break the room's trance.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, that's Skittles," said James. "He's Remus'."

"That's a stupid name," Longbottom said, shifting uneasily in his chair. Gryffindor's Keeper and Quidditch captain obviously sided with his best friend, but was reluctant to break _all_ ties with his fellow teammates...

"That's what Severus said," Remus answered. "They can't stand each other; you'll never see them in here together."

Longbottom nodded and opened his mouth as though to speak; a second later he thought better of it, rose and disappeared after Gudgeon into their dormitory. After a moment Greenwood—and after a longer moment, Evans—followed.

James fell into an armchair. "Great. This is just great," he sighed. "Now the only other Chaser on our team apparently hates our guts—and one of my best friends decides he's right even though he's being a git..."

_You could've just told him,_ Severus said quietly. James, Sirius and Remus stared at him as if he'd gone mad.

_Have you gone mad? Not only would it take forever and reveal way too much about the Order and way too much about you, but I'm not sure anyone else would understand,_ James said.

_Yes,_ Remus agreed, _you sort of had to be there. And surely you didn't _want_ James to explain—_

_Certainly not! But you could have._

They stared at him again.

_You're weird, Skittles_, Sirius said finally.

_You're the one talking to the telepathic cat._

-hey look it's a lineeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-

Bleh. Sorry for the lineeeeeeeeeeeeeeee issues. Grr, Autoformat. Also, if anyone would like to join my new club- "All Ants Must Die," just let me know.

Teh questions:

Is Saboo spelled Saboo or Sabu? Why is the sad Saboo sad? Is the completely overused "Prank War" plot device going to ruin the story? (No...)Which Marauder is the awesomest? Why are 99 of HP fanfic readers/writers women? Do you know how to fix the autoformat? And for the love of Pete, why is all the rum gone?


	29. It Only Takes One Avada Kedavara

DISCLAIMER: I started college. Woot. And guess what? I still don't own Harry Potter. It never ceases to amaze me.

DEDICATION: To everybody for putting up with the wait. Hopefully this chapter'll make it up to you!

**

* * *

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXVIII: 2144**

_**It Only Takes One Avada Kedavara**_

"'Twas the hour before Quidditch tryouts, and all through the commons, every student was stirring... Um, what rhymes with 'commons'?"

"Lawmen's?" suggested Remus.

"That's lame, Moony." Sirius shook his head and leapt back onto his feet. "Really lame." He started pacing around his chair.

"Can't you hold still for a _minute_, Sirius?" Severus snapped, looking up from his Transfiguration homework. "Do you have to jump around like that?"

"Oh, is Ickle Sevvy grumpy?"

Severus shot him a glare that would have wilted half the plants in greenhouse three. "_Yes_. I don't understand a word of this bloody rubbish, my head hurts, I have detention in an hour and I can't find James."

"Oy!" James appeared from behind Severus' chair, wearing Quidditch robes and a huge grin. "One hour till showtime, Padfoot!"

Severus shoved the notes under James' nose. "Help me."

By the time Severus' candle finally began to resemble a sandal—albeit a white, waxy one—James and Sirius had left for the Quidditch pitch along with nearly everyone else in Gryffindor tower. Only Remus remained with him in the common room, fidgeting and glancing towards the windows; finally Severus gave up and they sat off towards Greebe's office a few minutes early so Remus would make it to the pitch in time.

"Rotten luck, anyway," Remus said. "I know you don't care much for Quidditch, but it's always fun to watch them goofing off in mid-air—_why_ Greebe had to give you detention nowinstead of last night, and when it was Peeve's fault to begin with..."

"Peeves has always hated me," Severus said glumly, "ever since I ratted him out to the Bloody Baron back in second year."

"What was he doing?"

"Same thing as yesterday—planting Dungbombs in my bag." They rounded a corner and came within sight of the Defense Professor's office. "I hope you lot have a good time."

"Thanks. See you in a few hours, then." Remus disappeared down the stairs and Severus knocked on Greebe's door. It opened immediately and Severus found himself inches from the professor, who was looking down at him as if he was a particularly ugly stain on the carpet.

"Get in here, I don't have all day." Severus stepped into the room; Greebe shut the door, pointed to a rag and bucket on the floor and said: "Clean the desks. I want them _spotless_. No magic." Then he disappeared into his storeroom.

At first Severus was glad he wasn't doing lines; however, it took less than five minutes of work to change his mind. This was not at all like cleaning Order Headquarters; the grime on the desks—_how'd they get so filthy, anyway?_—seemed as adherent as Quintaped puke and removing it was a tedious, lengthy process that left his arms sore and his hands stinging from whatever solution the bucket held.

The only good thing about the assignment was that it left Severus' mind free to wander. He thought up some imaginative names for Greebe—idiotic, worthless git was the nicest—and brainstormed possible prank ideas for the upcoming week. The first week's jokes had been fairly standard—a "warm-up", as Sirius had said: the Marauders had spent Monday and Tuesday with blue hair, skin, eyes and fingernails; the opposition had been pranked just that morning, and were still picking the onions and feathers out of their ears.

The Marauders had won round one.

Word of the contest had spread throughout the school and many were taking sides, amplifying both the friendly competition and the serious argument underlying it. Gudgeon and his friends were still convinced that Severus was up to no good, and they were quite vocal about their opinion. Severus was spending most of his free time as a cat. James and Sirius had been touchy all week, only returning to their overly cheerful selves when their prank had triumphed; Remus was withdrawn and had shadows under his eyes again—_though that could be because the full moon's next week._ After two more shouting matches in the common room, James and Sirius had begun resolutely ignoring Longbottom and Gudgeon, and vice versa. As they were currently the only four members of Gryffindor's Quidditch team, the tryouts promised to be interesting.

_But I don't get to see them, since I'm stuck here as the house-elf of a useless professor who's obviously hiding something._ Severus scowled.No matter what Dumbledore and James and Sirius and Remus and Ted and Andromeda and Mr. Potter and Moody said, he was sure Greebe was keeping secrets.

Severus trusted his instincts.

His instincts were now telling him that the grime was never going to be completely removed from the desks no matter how many times he scrubbed them. Severus paused a moment to rest, noting with displeasure that his hands were red and raw... _Damn you, Peeves. I could be doing something useful, I could be working on the Quandary with Ted—or outside with Remus, taking a moment to relax..._

Nearly three hours later the desks were as grime-free as Severus believed he was physically capable of making them. He knocked on the door Greebe had disappeared through.

Once more the door opened immediately; Greebe surveyed the desks and sniffed. "Adequate—barely. You may leave."

Severus darted out into the hallway almost before Greebe had finished speaking. He had a sudden craving for company, and hoped the others had returned to the common room—_though it's dark, probably after curfew, I don't see why they shouldn't be—_

_"EXPELLARIAMUS!"_

_"SILENCIO!"_

_"STUPEFY!"_

Severus dropped to the floor and the stunner flew centimeters over his head. The first two spells had been effective, however: he was disarmed and couldn't call for help. Severus' mind immediately registered a number of masked presences—_Death Eaters. Great._ He sprang to his feet and raced back down the corridor, ducking and dodging another set of stunners.

He could see the end of the hall; the moving staircase, inconveniently enough, wasn't there. _Damn damn damn..._

"What's all the noise out—you! You lot—what the hell do you think you're doing?" Greebe shouted. Severus chanced a glance over his shoulder; Greebe was facing one of the Death Eaters, wand drawn, but the others were gaining at an alarming rate...

_"STUPEFY!"_

The poorly aimed stunner sailed across the hall and knocked a painting to the ground—which was four stories below, as the end of this corridor looked out over the Great Hall. The floor was about to end...

_"ABSCINDO!"_

_"CRUCIO!"_

The curses hit, the first slicing a deep gash across Severus' cheek and the Cruciatus throwing him to the ground inches from the drop. Severus screamed in silent torment; he could hear curses being fired—Greebe and the Death Eater were fighting...

And the others were getting very close...

_"ABSCINDO!"_ roared another voice. The hot pain in his arm pulled Severus out of the Cruciatus' grasp and back into reality. He hooked his fingers around the end of the floor and threw himself head-first over the edge.

Severus managed to transform and flap his wings once before hitting the ground, but the impact was still hard enough to break the legs that were usually his left arm and foot. The Death Eaters sent down a hailstorm of curses, shooting wildly in the darkness. Severus transformed and stood up, gasping at the pain in his ankle; he hobbled towards the marble steps—_Dumbledore's office is closest, two floors up—_but another storm of hexes, more accurately aimed thanks to the torches illuminating the grand staircase, forced him back into the shadows.

So, keeping his broken arm close to his chest and himself close to the wall, Severus slid towards the corridor which held a dozen unused classrooms and one hidden passageway. The latter took him to the third floor, near the trophy room; he limped up the stairs that led to the library, moving as quickly as possible until he could hide behind a suit of armor. There he paused for half a minute, his heart pounding ferociously in his chest and his ankle throbbing—_where do I go now... they'll expect me to head for Dumbledore's office, so that's out_... When Severus realized he was undoubtedly leaving a trail of blood his pursuers could follow, his feet made the decision for him, continuing up a narrow, rickety flight of steps and down another corridor to the secret passage behind Boris the Bewildered's statue. He pressed a particular spot on the wall and it opened, leading to another staircase that took him to the seventh floor...

Severus was panting now, exhausted and trembling; his arm and cheek and ankle hurt like hell. It was with great relief that he spotted the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Good Merlin! Whatever happened to _you?_" she exclaimed.

Severus opened his mouth to give the password—and with a sudden shock remembered he couldn't speak. _Damn! _He started gesturing at his mouth, miming what had happened, trying to gain entrance...

"No password, no entry."

Severus swore again, furiously, wishing someone could hear him... _wait... REMUS! SIRIUS! JAMES! Let me in—_

The portrait hole swung open, revealing that Gryffindor house was in the middle of a party. Severus recalled that Sirius and James had mentioned the possibility of procuring snacks and butterbeer for an after-tryouts celebration; they had obviously succeeded...

"SEVERUS!" Remus pulled him through the doorway, steadying his uninjured arm. "What happened? MOVE!" he shouted at two first years blocking the route to the closest chair. All at once the happy atmosphere turned alarmed and anxious; James and Sirius appeared just as Severus collapsed into the armchair.

"Severus—what happened—was it Death Eaters?" James demanded. Severus nodded and the words _You-Know-Who_ spread through the room as swiftly as brushfire.

"I'll go get Dumbledore," Sirius said. Severus grabbed his arm and tried to speak but once again no words came out; fortunately James had the sense to perform a quick _Finite Incantatem_.

"_Don't,_ Sirius—it'd be at least five on one—"

"Then I'll bring twelve people with me!"

"Right then," James said, raising his voice to address Gryffindor tower: "First through fourth years here, fifth years and sixth years with Sirius to get Dumbledore, Seventh years with me to get McGonagall—"

An excited, worried clamor was echoing through the room; in the commotion Severus nicked Remus' wand from his sleeve and blasted the portrait shut. "Don't you _dare,_" he shouted. Silence fell abruptly over the common room as he turned towards James. "This is exactlywhat I meant when I said Gryffindors were fool-hardy idiots. It doesn't matter if you outnumber them a hundred to one, it only takes one _Avada Kedavara_ to get someone killed. For once in your lives be sensible and _stay where you are_."

No one moved. The stillness and silence and unbearable tension stretched on as the second hand circled the clock face once, twice—then at the first stroke of ten the portrait burst open and Dumbledore, McGonagall, Andromeda and Ted piled into the common room.

Dumbledore was at his side in an instant. Severus could hear the others attempting to placate the Gryffindors, but he had no attention to spare for anyone but the Headmaster, who knelt beside him, a gentle hand inspecting the cut on his cheek... "When Greebe told me you jumped I feared the worst," Dumbledore whispered, running his wand over the gash; the pain disappeared as if it'd never been there. Severus closed his eyes and leaned his head against the Headmaster's robes, feeling more weary than he had since midsummer.

"Organize yourselves by year and make sure no one is missing. All students will proceed to the Great Hall immediately—no exceptions," McGonagall added, looking at Remus, Sirius and James.

"But Professor Dumbledore," James protested, "Severus—"

"—will be fine, fortunately, and will stay fine, because I am not going to let him out of my sight. Please follow Professor McGonagall." Severus felt Dumbledore's long, wrinkled fingers on his arm, a twinge of magic passed through it and the pain dissolved into nothing. Dumbledore repeated the process with his ankle as the last of the Gryffindors exited through the portrait hole.

"Come, Severus," he said quietly. "I need to notify the Ministry and the Order... the entire castle needs to be searched, and we need more force than we have here, to protect our students and hunt our quarry."

"You think... you think they're still here?"

"I hope so, much as I detest the thought of such men and women in Hogwarts. I activated the emergency wards nearly ten minutes ago; if they haven't already escaped we may be able to bring them to justice, and perhaps they can provide us with information about Voldemort's plans..."

* * *

Severus sat on the floor of the Entrance Hall, leaning against a statue of Phineas Nigellus the Unadmired and idly flicking the tassels of a nearby tapestry. He was trying to ignore the swarms of people moving to and fro—Aurors, teachers, Order members—and for the most part they were ignoring him too. Dumbledore was keeping an eye on him, however, and one rookie Auror seemed convinced he was a Death Eater under Polyjuice and was watching his every move. Severus wasn't annoyed by this; he was too tired to be annoyed. After following the Headmaster up and down what felt like every corridor in the castle he was simply grateful to sit down.

His watch was ticking steadily towards midnight when Professor McGonagall appeared in the doorway a few yards before him. She paused to scan the crowded room, presumably looking for the Headmaster...

"Professor?"

McGonagall jumped. "Goodness—you startled me—"

"If you're looking for the Headmaster he's in that group of Aurors," Severus said, pointing towards the middle of the hall. She nodded her thanks and walked straight through the throng, as even the most seasoned fighters in the room automatically made way for the woman who had taught them Transfiguration. Severus smiled at the thought; McGonagall could certainly be intimidating when she desired, but she had been noticeably nicer to him this year—making her class _slightly_ less impossible.

She reappeared with the Headmaster, who beckoned Severus over. _Come, Severus; we are expecting visitors. _He sighed and followed his professors wearily up the marble stairs and down the corridor to the gargoyle that concealed Dumbledore's office door.

"Acid pop!"

There were no visitors in the Headmaster's office yet and that was fine with Severus. Dumbledore and McGonagall began conversing in low tones by the desk; a moment later McGonagall departed. Severus nestled himself into his favorite armchair and was pleased when Fawkes glided over to perch on his lap—a comforting, warm weight between his chest and knees.

The fireplace flashed green and spewed a pair of seemingly important and dignified people onto Dumbledore's carpet. The first to rise was a witch wearing an elaborately embroidered dressing gown and a commanding expression he'd seen often in the _Prophet_—the Minister of Magic, Millicent Bagnold. Trailing her was Bartemius Crouch, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Ah, Albus," the Minister said with a small, polite smile. "It has been too long."

"Yes, we do seem to see each other only in the middle of crises, don't we?" Dumbledore agreed. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Not now, I think," Crouch said. "We are, as you've said, here for information."

"Ask away," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"First, how has the search of the castle proceeded? Have any Death Eaters been caught? Have we had any casualties?" Crouch demanded.

"I do not know," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I have been preoccupied with the castle warding and the protection of my students. Rufus Scrimgeour will be here any minute with a report from Alastor, however, so I suggest once more that you enjoy your tea until he arrives. Trinket!"

A house-elf appeared holding a tray heavily laden with a tea service, biscuits, pastries and, for some reason, a bowl of peppermint humbugs. The Minister was just beginning her third biscuit when a young Auror with tawny hair and spectacles, who Severus presumed was Scrimgeour, burst into the room. Severus, feeling very lazy and slightly daring, took advantage of the distraction to summon a cup of tea, a biscuit and a handful of the humbugs, which Fawkes immediately began nibbling.

"Two of them," Scrimgeour said excitedly. "We've got two of them downstairs—" He turned towards Crouch and the Minister. "Moody assumed you'd want them up here for immediate questioning...?"

"Here will be fine," Bagnold said. "If, of course, our host agrees..."

"Certainly, Millicent." Dumbledore was popping humbugs into his mouth in a fair imitation of Fawkes. Scrimgeour turned and shouted something down the stairwell; a moment later Moody and Mr. Potter appeared, guarding two other stupefied faces Severus recognized—faces that made him sit up a bit straighter as all traces of drowsiness were banished from his mind: Jugson—large, blond and stupid—and Travers, the slick, wiry assassin.

Dumbledore conjured up a half-dozen more plush armchairs in a rough semicircle; Moody transfigured the desk into a bench with restraints to hold two people. Space was rather tight, and there was a lot of pushing and shoving as the various members of the Order and Ministry tried to get situated—yet no one but Dumbledore seemed to notice his presence. Severus began to wonder if the Headmaster had thrown a Disregardance Charm over him at some point.

"Okay, Scrimgeour—take this down," said Crouch, once the Death Eaters had been transferred to the desk-turned-bench. "Transcript of the questioning beginning on September seventh, 1975, at—"

"Save it for the official questioning," snapped the Minister. "Let's cut to the chase. Moody, what do we know so far?"

"They were found hiding in Hagrid's hut roughly eight minutes ago," Moody grunted. "At this point the castle itself has been completely searched and sealed off; I've got seven teams out scouring the grounds. According to the Professor who saw them there were at least three more—"

"What Professor?" Crouch asked instantly.

"Our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Professor Greebe," Dumbledore replied. "He had a chance encounter with them and is currently recovering in the Infirmary."

"That's all he knows? Not what they were after, or their identities, or...?"

"No, Bartemius."

"Well, if that's all, then go ahead and wake them up," said the Minister. "I assume someone has Veritaserum..."

"We can't use it, this is an unofficial questioning," Crouch answered. "But considering that I, Moody and Dumbledore are all registered as Legilimens, I doubt we'll have a problem. _Ennervate!_"

Jugson and Travers woke up, physically and mentally. They had obviously been silenced, as the room was perfectly quiet for a moment. Severus stared, surprised, at Jugson's rust-coated presence for a moment; it was not the mind he remembered. He met Dumbledore's eyes and nodded in confirmation.

"Jugson's been Oblivated," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Damn," growled Moody. "I _thought_ something about him felt funny... his mind's completely gone then?"

"He couldn't tell you his own name," the Headmaster replied after another confirming nod from Severus.

"Travers must have done it when he saw they were going to be captured," Crouch muttered. "Good thing we got them before he could do himself, too—Potter, Scrimgeour, get him to St. Mungo's and see if he's fixable."

After they left, Severus and the remaining adults turned their attention to Travers, who was glaring at them defiantly. Crouch glared back, looking disgusted; after a moment he said: "Cooperation will be less painful. _Finite Incantatem._"

"Go to hell."

The Minister sighed.

"First question," Crouch continued resolutely, "why did you come here?"

Travers blinked in surprise. "You mean you don't _know?_" he said incredulously. He looked up at Dumbledore and a half-crazed grin spread slowly across his face. "You mean he never _told_ you? Naughty, naughty, Dumbledore, keeping secrets from your own side now, are we?"

The Minister looked up at Dumbledore sharply. "What's he talking about?"

"You never asked," the Headmaster said simply.

"Well I'm asking _now,_ Dumbledore," Crouch growled. "_What_ is he after?"

"Ah, the most valuable treasure I am currently in possession of," Dumbledore answered. "Who is sitting with Fawkes in the chair directly across from me."

Four pairs of eyes started searching the air in front of Severus' face... then he felt the Disregardance Charm break and Moody swore. "Snape. I ought to have known," he growled.

"You bloody bastard," Travers snarled, surprising Crouch and the Minister. "Treacherous, mudblood-loving little—"

"_Silencio,_" Dumbledore murmured. "Millicent, Bartemius—meet Severus Snape. Severus—Minister Bagnold and Mr. Crouch."

Severus nodded politely. "Charmed."

"The pleasure is mine, Severus," said the Minister.

"What the _hell_ would You-Know-Who want with a second-year Gryffindor?" demanded Crouch.

"Fifth-year, Bartemius," Dumbledore corrected. "And I am sure you remember the many long arguments we have had concerning the confidentiality of my intelligence sources?"

"Of course I remember! How could I not wonder where you got so—"

"Well, I have now introduced you to the leader of my intelligence network." Dumbledore paused a moment to let that sink in. "And since you seem to get along so splendidly already, and as it appears that the Aurors have finished searching the grounds..." He gestured towards the window where multiple showers of white sparks were illuminating the night, "—I shall not keep you any longer. I'm sure you have far more important business to be about—questioning Mr. Travers, for one."

The conversation descended into an argument at that point, but Severus—warmed by Fawkes, full of tea, and confident that Dumbledore had control of the situation—yawned twice, and heard no more.

* * *

Oi. The second half wasn't originally in the final draft, but I liked it enough to slide it back in there. Plus, ya'll deserved an extra-long chapter... Here's the questions!

How do you solve a problem like Sev-e-rus? How do you catch a snitch and pin it doooown? How do you make Wormtail pay, and get Sirius to see it your way, and how do you keep Death Eaters from coming rooooound?


	30. Running About After Curfew Only Three

DISCLAIMER: Eh, I don't own it. Do I? -Checks notes-

Sirius: You don't own it.

James: You definitely don't.

Viskii: Come on, I said I was sorry--

Remus: _Petrificus Totalus!_

Viskii: mmmph? (translates to: Is this really necessary?)

Severus: Oh yes. _Lotsus bugsus attacksus youus!_

James: You just made that up!

Sev: So?

DEDICATION: To Sirius Black, the sexiest Marauder alive.

Remus: Padfoot, I thought you weren't allowed to mess with the Quickedit anymore, hmm?

* * *

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXIX: **

**_Running About After Curfew Only Three Nights After Death Eaters Invaded the School_**

Severus yawned and opened his eyes. For a moment he was startled to find himself not in his four-poster bed, but in Dumbledore's office, curled up in his favorite armchair, with a blanket tucked around him and a phoenix perched on his lap—a comforting, warm weight between his chest and knees.

"Hello, Fawkes," he whispered, stroking the phoenix's head gently. "Do you know where Dumbledore is?"

"He," replied a familiar voice from behind Severus, "is at his desk, contemplating the enormous amount of paperwork he has to complete, and eating breakfast. Would you care to join him?"

Severus shrugged off the blanket, picked up Fawkes, and rose to see an enormous breakfast already laid out for him. "What happened after I fell asleep?" he asked, sliding into the chair directly across from Dumbledore. Fawkes hopped onto the desk and started eating Severus' bacon.

"Ah, Travers," Dumbledore said with a frown, eying his toast to see if it would hold any more raspberry jam. "Moody is still questioning him, although he appears to have been working under his own jurisdiction, not Voldemort's. Jugson has been transferred to St. Mungos, and the other three Death Eaters have not been apprehended. Either they managed to leave the grounds before Greebe alerted me to their presence, or, as we suspected, there are indeed Death Eaters attending this school. However, all students have been accounted for, and the Death Eater Greebe dueled would not have had time to make it to his or her dormitory. So, with Travers and Jugson in custody, I believe we are dealing with two students and at least one unknown."

"Professor," Severus said quietly, watching Fawkes move on to the sausages, "I don't mean to question your judgment, but I've told you my doubts about Greebe... Doesn't it seem a bit convenient that I was attacked when he was the only teacher around?"

"_Professor_ Greebe, Severus, was nothing but helpful," Dumbledore said firmly. "He sustained minor injuries but was able to retrieve your wand and alert me to the situation within moments. His anger at your attackers, in fact, was so great that I could sense it even through his Occlumency shield. He was not involved."

Severus knew better than to press the issue. Instead he began drinking his orange juice—it seemed to be the only part of the meal Fawkes hadn't nibbled at—and asked: "What now, then?"

"Now?" Dumbledore sighed. "Now I increase security once again. Now I have another pile of angry letters from parents and the Ministry to answer—I must say, Severus, you did not make any friends in the Ministry when you flouted their decree last Sunday. Bartemius was quite displeased."

Severus looked at the floor. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't be," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "It was a noble thing to do, in my humble opinion. The Minister, Mr. Crouch and I have had many disagreements over that particular piece of legislation. I am simply warning you that if Bartemius begins to see you as a threat to his reputation, he has the power to make our lives extremely uncomfortable."

Severus snorted, doubtful that he could ever be considered a threat to the Minister of Magic's right-hand man. He was about to question Dumbledore further, when he remembered something else he'd been meaning to ask. "You said I'm allowed on the grounds when I'm with James and Remus and Sirius," he recalled. Dumbledore inclined his head slightly. "Which would mean technically, I suppose, that if I was out on the grounds after curfew, as long as I was still with them—and if we were all transformed, which would be even safer, since the Dark Lord doesn't know we're Animagi—and if I'm going to be attacked in the corridors _anyway_—"

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted, his eyes twinkling, "are you asking me for _permission_ to break the rules?"

* * *

"So what happened?" James asked eagerly the moment Severus entered their dormitory.

"Not much. The Aurors and Order searched the castle and grounds, caught Travers and Jugson, lost three more. Oh, and Filch tried to give me a week's worth of detention for bleeding all over the corridors."

"That's all?" Sirius said, disappointed. "We heard Dumbledore got in a fight with the Minister—"

"If he did he didn't tell me about it," Severus answered, sprawling across his bed. "I wouldn't know, I fell asleep."

"You _fell asleep?_" James repeated, making a face.

"Yes, I slept, like any sensible diurnal creature would. Isn't that what you lot were doing?"

"No, everyone stayed up all night trying to decide what was happening to you," Remus answered. "Davey's still convinced you're trying to murder us in our beds—"

"Bloody git," Sirius mumbled, his face buried in his pillow.

"—but overall the Severus-Is-Evil movement lost a lot of momentum when you came in with blood all over your face and robes." Remus frowned and sat up, peering at Severus more intently. "You're okay, right?"

"I'm fine. How did the tryouts go, by the way?"

James laughed. "You will not believe it. You absolutely will not believe it—guess who's our new Seeker? _Lily!_ I didn't even know she _played_ Quidditch—her parents are muggles, after all—but she's a good flyer and—"

"—and she's the best who tried out," said Remus. "Galvin—Davey's little brother—tried for Seeker too, but he was so bad Frank simply couldn't put him on the team. He got reserve, though," he added thoughtfully. "And Alice is now a Beater, much to Sirius' horror—"

Sirius moaned and pulled the pillow over his head.

"And for chaser we've got Demetrius Prod—that third year who blew up the Charms classroom last year. Fortunately he's more capable with a Quaffle than a wand," James said.

"It doesn't sound as though that'd be difficult—"

Severus was interrupted by a sharp tap on the window. An elegant barn owl was hovering outside; Remus opened the window and the owl swooped in, dropped a letter on Severus' pillow, and left.

"Who's it from?" Remus asked, snapping the window shut.

Severus slit open the parchment and scanned the short message. "Ted. We're supposed to be working right now—bloody Death Eaters threw off our schedule—but he says I can come down this afternoon if I feel up to it."

"And do you?"

"Of course, James. Besides, we need all the time we can get."

"What exactly are you doing, anyway?" Sirius said, unexpectedly looking up from his pillows. "You're reading all these huge old books, taking notes instead of doing your essays—but what are you researching?"

"It's complicated. I'll explain later, when we have time to spare—but for now I could use some breakfast. Fawkes ate all mine."

* * *

James was pacing the length of the deserted common room. He paused every few minutes to check his pocket, reassuring himself that the Invisibility Cloak was, indeed, still there. Sirius was sitting in the armchair beside Severus', his fingers drumming a steady beat on the upholstery and his abandoned Charms essay curling across the carpet.

"How can you be so _calm?_" Sirius demanded.

Severus looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow. "How can you not be? You've known Remus is a werewolf for years—"

"But we've never snuck out of the castle to join him before. Honestly, if we get caught McGonagall will skin us alive—_Running about after curfew only three nights after Death Eaters invaded the school! Have you no common sense whatsoever!?_" Sirius snapped in a fair imitation of the Transfiguration Professor.

"Dumbledore said it was fine as long as we don't get caught," Severus replied.

"You _asked _him?" James said. "You asked him for _permission?_ That's—that's just wrong." James shook his head in disbelief. "That takes all the thrill out of it."

Severus shrugged and returned his attention to the leather-bound tome resting on his knees. Sirius leaned across to read over his shoulder. "What's that say? There, in the fancy gold print?" he asked.

"It's instructions on what not to do. They wanted to be sure no one else spent their lives with antlers growing out of their nose."

"Considerate." Sirius resumed his finger-drumming, progressing slowly up the chair back until he was tapping Severus' head.

"Do you _mind?_"

"Not at all. And you know, Severus, you promised to explain what you and Ted are doing for Nymphadora..."

Severus sighed. "Very well, if you stop making that infernal racket. You have, I hope, at least _heard _of Albion's Quandary?"

"Yeah, we've been though every book in the library on it," James said. "We _can_ research when we want to, you know," he added in response to Severus' startled look. "—it's just that schoolwork is hardly worth our attention."

"Then you know the basics. What we're trying to do—it's a bit like magnetizing a nail. We're trying to get all the magic to pull the same way, organizing it; but if even a fraction of magic pulls the other way, it's enough to corrupt the rest and eventually put us back at the beginning."

"That doesn't sound _too_ hard," Sirius said hopefully. "Potions can do all sorts of things with magic—"

"But the problem is that it hasn't been done before. The concept is easy, but—it's trying to magnetize a nail when there's no such thing as a magnet. You have to _invent_ the magnet before you can magnetize anything with it, and who the hell knows how to do that? Uncontrolled magic is a powerful force, and no one's found anything strong enough to force it to stabilize."

"That makes sense," said James. He glanced at the clock and started. "Merlin, it's almost time. Let's go."

Severus transformed and led the way through the corridors; his identity as "Remus' cat—you know, the one with the stupid name" was well established by this time, and he was able to warn James and Sirius when patrolling prefects, Peeves or Filch were dangerously close. Ten minutes later they were on the grounds, breathing the damp, cool air of twilight, just outside the Whomping Willow's reach.

"Okay, Severus," James whispered. "It's that knot there, the one between the prickly weeds and the big root."

Severus inched forward, keeping close to the ground; the tree began to shift ominously and he pounced on the knot. The tree froze. He darted into the hole and James and Sirius followed, shedding the cloak at the tunnel's entrance; they transformed as well and the trio hurried down the hole.

It was a long, low, dark passage that sank steadily deeper into the earth; after what felt like hours but was only minutes the tunnel began to rise. It emptied into a dusty, devastated parlor that was filled with mangled furniture. Severus shivered; the room was eerily familiar—it had the same sense of destruction, the same smell of blood as the ruins of his father's castle. Prongs batted him lightly with one hoof and Severus turned to see Padfoot disappear up the stairs.

He followed, leaping nimbly from one step to the next up the entire ramshackle flight. On the landing he paused beside Padfoot, peering through the half-open doorway: Remus was inside, pacing as James had been earlier; he looked pale and sick and anxious, and kept glancing towards the window.

Prongs nudged the door open. Remus turned about sharply when he heard them approach. "There you are! I was beginning to wonder if Filch had got a hold of you..." He smiled weakly and sat down on the bed. Padfoot and Severus jumped up beside him; Prongs sat at his feet. "I mean, he'd probably try to give you detention even if it wasn't after curfew. Just on general principle. He'd give anyone detention—if he could take points, we'd probably all be in the negatives every year, I suppose that's why Dumbledore..."

Remus seemed to realize he was rambling and stopped abruptly. He looked down at his hands, which he was wringing furiously in his lap; he balled them into fists and sat trembling on the edge of the mattress. "Thanks," he whispered. "You can't know how much this means to me... How much..." A tear slid out from the corner of his eye. Severus hopped over Padfoot and resettled on Remus' lap; Remus began to stroke his back immediately, glad for something to do with his hands; more tears slid down his face in ones and twos as they sat quietly for five minutes, ten minutes...

The first miniscule sliver of moonlight slid through the boarded window. Remus moaned—a deep, guttural sound that made the fur on Severus' neck stand on end. He pushed Severus roughly away and fell off the bed onto the floor, still moaning; his body was rigid and shaking tremendously...

Severus blinked his jewel-bright eyes and watched in horror as his friend's back arched, as he grew longer and broader and fur sprung from his skin; claws ripped from his fingers and his teeth lengthened into pure, sharp canines...

Moony was a werewolf. A huge, growling werewolf, who scanned the room with eyes that focused only on _hunt_ and _bite_ and _kill..._ When his eyes reached the other Marauders, though, their single-mindedness wavered, and he looked uncertain.

_Does he remember who we are?_ wondered James.

_Ask him. _Severus jumped down from the bed and approached Moony warily. Padfoot followed, more confidently; he wrinkled his nose at Remus.

_Remember us, Moony? We're pack. Come run with us._

Moony blinked once, staring now at Padfoot, who yipped playfully and jumped over Prongs, leading the way down the stairs. The others followed him through the tunnel and out into the wild freedom of the night: the ethereal light of the pale flat moon, the scent of the grass beneath their paws, the thrill of hearts beating and muscles contracting as one, one group—the togetherness of _pack._

Padfoot lead them in a untamed, unchoreographed romp through the grounds and into the Forbidden Forest. Moony howled once to the sky, unleashing his sorrow upon the moon, giving it wings to fly away and leaving it behind. Then nothing was left but the joy and wonder, which they did not leave behind, but carried with them as they ran beneath the moon into the wee hours of the morning.

* * *

"Here he is, Andromeda. He's up here, sleeping." McGonagall nudged Remus' shoulder gently. "Mr. Lupin? You have to wake up—"

Remus groaned and rolled over, nearly squashing Severus, who was curled up at his side. None of the Marauders had wanted to leave Remus alone after he'd collapsed on the bed, and the professors were bound to notice a huge black dog and an even larger stag... _"Remus' cat—you know, the one with the stupid name," however..._

"Professor?" Remus groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes, Mr. Lupin. Come now, can you sit up? Andromeda's here with some potions, and we need to get you to the Hospital Wing..."

Remus sat up gingerly, resting heavily against the pillows. Severus perked his head up and saw Andromeda come bustling in with an armful of potion bottles. She uncorked several of them and began handing them to Remus. "How are you feeling, Remus?"

"Better than usual," Remus replied. His hand drifted to his side and he scratched Severus' ears lightly. "—for some reason."

Andromeda's eyes darted to Severus. "I ought to have known," she muttered. "You aren't fooling anyone here, Severus."

"Well, none of the other teachers know, and you might have been Pomfrey—" Remus began.

"She's taken a month of holidays to visit her mother in Brazil," Andromeda informed him.

"_Severus Snape!_ Is that you?" McGonagall lit her wand and peered down at him. "I should think _you, _of all people, would have the sense not to be out of bed before curfew, considering what happened Saturday night! I shall most certainly be speaking to your head—I mean—"

_Pardon me for interrupting, Professor,_ Severus said matter-of-factly. McGonagall's eyebrows shot up into her hair and Remus grinned. _—but you are currently my head of house. And further, I have permission from Professor Dumbledore to be out-of-bounds. _

McGonagall's mouth dropped open. "Why—"

_Likely because I am his very favorite student ever,_ Severus said seriously. _Or perhaps because I asked for it. James and Sirius didn't, but they, as I'm sure you've noticed, are not here at the moment. But now I think we need to get Remus to the Hospital wing before he falls asleep again._

Remus smiled again, tiredly, and walked slowly between Andromeda and McGonagall up to the school. Severus followed them to the Hospital Wing, waited until Remus was asleep, then ran back through the corridors towards Gryffindor tower—hoping to snatch at least an hour of sleep before Ancient Runes.

* * *

Yeah, I know. New updating rule: if I haven't updated in a week, email/PM me and chew my butt out. Capiche? Kapice? How do you say that?

Severus: _Chewus yourus rearus._

Sirius: See, he's just making them up as he goes!

Remus: So?

Author: Argh, pain.

James: Ohhh, questions... Um, I really can't think of any... Er, how's this: how'd you like the chapter?

Remus: And what do you think will happen next?

Sirius: You lot are SO original. Ask them what spell they'd invent to use on Pettigrew, or U-No-Who, or Sev's dad. Ooh, that's another question: which of the three is worst and why?

Severus: Can we pick more than one?

Remus: That's cheating.

Sirius: Mmm, cheese.


	31. Is that Latin for Spaghetti Sauce?

DISCLAIMER: Note the lack of rabid fans surrounding my house. Note the location of my house and its notable not-in-England-ness. What does this tell you about the person who lives in this house?

DEDICATION: Winterkatze, who- while nice enough to not actually chew my butt out- successfully guilted and berated me into updating. Yay Winterkatze! Huggbees for you!

**

* * *

**

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXX:**

_**Is that Latin for "Spaghetti Sauce"?**_

"Is it a plant?"

"Nope."

"Is it edible?"

"Nope."

"Is it something found in this school?"

"Nope."

"People," James whined desperately to Remus and Severus as they passed the library, "I need _help..._"

"It can't be that hard to guess what he's thinking of," Severus said. "This is Amazing Wonder Mutt you're talking about. I'm shocked he even has the _ability _to think..."

"Hairball breath," Sirius retaliated.

"Crotch sniffer."

"Butt licker."

"Idiotic—"

"What do you know so far?" Remus interrupted.

"Just that it's not made of metal, is smaller than me but bigger than a Snitch, is not blue or orange or any other color known to wizardkind, does not glow in the dark, is something Muggles know about, does have magical properties, is not alive, is not something you can wear, isn't something that floats, doesn't have a mind of its own, is not a plant, isn't edible and isn't found in this school," James answered.

"The Holy Grail," Severus said calmly, continuing to stride past the others. They all bumped into Sirius, who was standing openmouthed in the middle of the corridor and seemed to be shock.

"H-How—how did you—?"

Severus turned to grin wickedly and wiggle his fingers at Sirius. "_Maaaaagic_. I'm the cat who reads bloody minds, remember?"

"That's _cheating!_" Sirius shouted, chasing Severus down the rest of the corridor. "That's _cheating—_"

By the time they reached the dungeons, Severus—to Sirius' immense frustration—had managed to guess without 'cheating' that he was thinking of a wishbone, a motorcyclist, a paper umbrella, and a flock of toucans. He explained the trick of it to James as they loitered in front of the Potions classroom, waiting for class to start, and any passers-by would have agreed that all four Marauders seemed particularly cheerful at the moment—exceptionally cheerful, in Severus' case.

The full moon was truly a magical phenomenon. Running beneath it, together, had been an otherworldly, almost spiritual experience; it brought to Severus' mind memories of the first time they had run together, on the Isle of Drear—the night they had sealed their friendship. This full moon had renewed that bond, and the Marauders had spent the last three days wrapped in cheerful, self-contained harmony—despite the constant threat of the Dark Lord and the constant annoyance that was Gudgeon, Longbottom, Greenwood and to some extent Evans.

"But what we really ought to be thinking about are prank ideas for next week," James said.

Severus agreed; though six giant illusions of bugs stalking the opposition through the corridors had made for an entertaining afternoon, their prank hadn't been at all in the same league as the others'. The question _where did they get two hundred miniature flying sheep?_ had plagued Severus all week.

"We're tied now," James continued, "but if we lose again they'll only need one more week to win. And this is the only way I'll _ever_ get to go to Hogsmeade with Lily—"

"You could just kidnap her," Severus suggested. James glared at him; but all the other Gryffindors and Slytherins in their year chose that moment to arrive for class, so the Marauders quickly united once more to glare at the Slytherins, four in particular... Amycus and Alecto Carrows, Antonio Wilkes and Augustus Rookwood glared back.

Ted, with his exquisite sense of timing and usual bright smile, opened the door and bade them enter. After everyone was settled in their usual seats, he waved his wand at the blackboard and a long list of instructions appeared under the words _Basic Befuddlement Draught_.

"Now, I'm sure you all did your homework and read up on the making of this potion," Ted announced, "so get started!"

Severus turned towards Sirius and was surprised to see him still grinning broadly. "You actually did the reading, I take it?"

"Yep—I've got the Basic Befuddlement Draught down cold. And last week wasn't really my fault, you know. I didn't forget the assignment completely, I just thought it was due Friday..."

Sirius slid off the bench and headed towards the ingredient cupboards where most of the class had congregated. Severus didn't notice. He was staring into thin air, the corners of his mouth gliding slowly upwards in a self-satisfied smile...

_I just thought it was due Friday... _

A marvelous idea was forming inside his head. Severus threw open his bag and started rummaging through his books. His beloved copy of Bibliotheca Medicamentorum was at the bottom, hidden beneath Intermediate Transfiguration and two of the tomes he was reading for Ted. He pulled it out and began flipping the pages earnestly; it had been completely useless as far as the Quandary was concerned, but...

_Portio XLII: Perspicientiam Memoriarum Dieculae Cummutare_

_Oh yes. Oh yes..._ Severus laughed aloud and started skimming the chapter. The more he read the more excited he became: all the instructions were right there, all the ingredients were in the cupboards... and it could be done in ninety minutes. _Oh yes. This is brilliant._ It was a devilishly tricky potion, of course, but that was hardly a problem. Severus read the ingredients list through carefully once more, then joined Sirius at the cupboards, where he gathered a decidedly different selection of ingredients than the rest of the class. After returning to his seat he lit a fire beneath his cauldron, asked for—and received—permission to use Ted's goblin-crystal scales, which were significantly more accurate than the student-standard, and began slicing up a large pile of lovage, much to the bewilderment of everyone else in the room.

"Um, Severus?" Sirius asked. "What are you doing?"

"You're working with Remus and James today," Severus replied, counting out scarab beetles.

"You didn't answer my question. What are you brewing?"

"Spaghetti sauce," Severus said cheerfully. "For the house-elves." He squeezed a bit of leech juice into his cauldron.

"Spaghetti sauce? With lovage and... _beetles?_"

"Extra-crunchy."

After that, Severus ignored everyone else in the room—which was quite easy, as the potion soon required his full attention. He had to prepare the ingredients very quickly, as the potion would require the full period to brew; his knife diced and chopped and sliced faster than the eye could follow, only pausing to flip a few more beetles into the cauldron. The pace quickened once again after he'd added the first major ingredients; he adjusted the cauldron's temperature, stirred the potion, added miniscule amounts of sneezewort and yarrow, and consulted his book again, all within about fifteen seconds. At some point caution gave way to experience and instinct, and Severus only checked the encyclopedia only every two minutes or so as he continued adding ingredients and stirring, adding ingredients and stirring...

The exact combination of ingredients had to go in at exactly the right second. The temperature couldn't be off by more than half a degree. The ingredients couldn't be diced when they needed to be chopped, or chopped when they needed to be sliced, or sliced even a millimeter too long. The potion had to be stirred sixteen times clock-wise, four times counterclockwise, seven times counter-clockwise _twice _a second, then twelve times clockwise again, while the ingredients were added. He had to remove the beetle intestines with one hand, while stirring, then slice them in half and drop three in every half-minute for five minutes. At that point in time he added the oregano, cooled the potion with his wand, and stirred it in a crescent-moon shape six times beginning in the south-western corner of the cauldron...

A hour and two final drops of leech juice later, Severus sat back and counted down the seconds. _Three... two... one..._

The thick grey crust on top of his potion promptly exploded, sending a fountain of sparks and white smoke into the air. Severus was ready with _Evanesco,_ however, and the smoke quickly faded to reveal that his cauldron now contained a shimmering, frothy mixture of the deepest turquoise blue. The potion bumped gently against the sides of his cauldron, as if asking politely for release; instead Severus poured the entire mixture into a beaker, corked it tightly and cast an unbreakable charm on the glass.

He smiled triumphantly, looked up and noticed that everyone in the room was staring at him. Severus raised an eyebrow, and, choosing his next words with care, annunciated clearly:

"See? Perfect spaghetti sauce, every time."

The lesson ended a few minutes later. Sirius had managed an Acceptable on his—and technically Severus'—Befuddlement Draught, much to his shock and relief; Remus and James achieved an Outstanding, and Ted accepted Severus' thanks for the use of his scales.

"But you have to let me know what it is eventually, okay?" Ted murmured too softly for anyone else to hear. "I have a reputation to defend, you know." Severus winked at him.

"All right, so what is it really?" Sirius demanded after they'd left the classroom. "Something for a prank?"

"Or something for Nymphadora?" Remus guessed.

"Or something we like to call shampoo, which you apparently lack a current supply of?" drawled a familiar voice. Severus snapped around to see Augustus Rookwood, smirking and tapping his hand casually with his wand. Three of Severus' other least-favorite Slytherins—Antonio, and the Carrows siblings—were flanking him.

"Actually, that's incorrect as well, Augustus," Severus replied evenly. "Though I would have expected no less from a dunderhead too pathetic to pass first year Charms."

"Well, well, well," Amycus laughed. "He'll still snap after all. Been put in the pussy house, with the rest of the mewling kitties, have we, Snivellus? Did you grow tired of our little games?"

"Do you have anything to say that's worthy of our attention, or do you just adore the sound of your own wheezing voice?" Sirius asked.

"Look, Amycus, the Black blood traitor's playing too... Is it true his mummy darling kicked him out of the house, I wonder?" Alecto purred.

James drew his wand. "You shut your foul, stinking trap."

The Carrows siblings laughed. "Feisty, aren't we?" said Augustus. "I see why Snape prefers playing with you three. You did beat us to using quite a few of the better curses on him, after all—the Conjunctivitis Curse, for one... And Sectumsempra..."

Severus and Sirius drew their wands as well, and it seemed a fight was about to break out—but Remus grabbed their shoulders and pulled them back. "It's not worth it; come on, let's just leave."

"Oh, even the perfect little prefect's angry now," Amycus hissed.

Remus pressed his lips together and his eyebrows folded angrily. "Thirty points from Slytherin!"

Alecto's smile didn't waver. "Scared now, I'm scared now... Looks like the prefect snaps too..."

"Probably learned it from Snivellus," Amycus sniggered. "He's a rotten bastard, that Snivellus—like father, like son..."

Severus' eyes sparked. Sirius snarled and, not even bothering with spells, punched Amycus in the face. Blood splattered across the corridor and instantly the air was full of jinxes, hexes and curses. By the time Ted arrived, Sirius, Amycus and Antonio were sprawled unconscious on the stone floor and Alecto had just hit James in the face with the Conjunctivitis Curse she'd been taunting them about earlier.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thirty minutes later the Marauders had entered and exited the Hospital Wing and were now standing in the office of an irate Professor McGonagall.

"So they insulted you! And instead of just ignoring them and _walking away_ you had to brawl like a couple of first years! And _you_, Mr. Lupin," she said, rounding on him, "couldn't have just taken points and left it at that? You had to help start the fight you should have been trying to stop_—_what an example for a prefect to set!"

"It wasn't his fault," James protested. "And he _was_ trying to stop us—"

"Well he obviously didn't do a very good job of it, if what Professor Tonks reported is any indication!" she snapped. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and detention for the lot of you! This is probably the twentieth time I've had you four in here for fighting—admittedly, it was usually _between _you—and I, frankly, am sick of it! If I hear of you fighting again it'll be two weeks' worth of detention and a hundred points! Now get to your next class before you're late." She pointed to the door and the Marauders lost no time leaving.

"She's not being fair at all," Sirius grumbled. "If that bloody lot insists on saying things like that they _deserve_ a night in the hospital wing. Preferably with Skele-Gro."

"Fifty points... That's going to put us in last place again," James sighed. "Gudgeon and Frank are going to have a fit."

"They'll probably demand we give up pranking for the whole _year,_" Sirius said. "If they win, anyway—and after last week, I'm starting to wonder..."

"Alice did hint that they had something spectacular planned for this week," Remus said quietly.

"Well that's just bloody excellent—"

"Oh, it is, James," Severus agreed, the slow smile creeping back onto his face. "Let them give us their best this week. Then it'll be all the more fun to watch their faces come next Saturday."

"You've got an idea? The potion—it's for this week's prank, isn't it?" Sirius said. "I just knew it... What does it do?"

Severus told them.

All four Marauders were grinning like idiots as they entered the Defense classroom.

* * *

Hmmm. So, this chapter's million-dollar question should be fairly obvious...

-dum dum dumm...-

_Why was Sirius thinking of a flock of toucans, anyway?_ Is this a subtle foreshadowing of or reference to his non-AU future, in which he sends letters to Harry with tropical birds? But why a flock instead of a single bird? Is the author suggesting that he desires to have more contact with Harry, his not-yet-existant godson, at least in canon? Perhaps this desire is cemented by the canonness of his family in comparison to the outrageously AUness of Sev's, and he is determined to send many letters- metaphorically and symbolically speaking, of course- to the author, demanding a future in which he is not in Azkaban and thus can see Harry often (a _flock_ of toucans) rather than rarely (a single bird). Juxtaposed with the references to the Holy Grail and wishbone, it seems that this is his greatest hope and what he desires for his relatively eternal life as a fictional character. The motorcyclist, moreover, might symbolize his desire for freedom- to visit Harry and form attachments of his own free will, not the ones he's bound into by birth- as well as a longing for a future in which he keeps his motorcycle. The paper umbrella could further symbolize his determination not to be shielded from the elements, but live life to the fullest.

Or the author could just be extrapolating randomly from symbolism which isn't really there. What do you think?


	32. Detention in the Room with the

DISCLAIMER: In the words of someone wiser than me, I bless you all: "May you never find a live turtle in your soup, nor be so delusional as to believe I own the HP franchise."

DEDICATION: Fizzing-Whizbee-nz reminded me that I still exist. I'll try to remember myself for next chapter. Thank you, Whizbee! Hugbees to you!

* * *

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXXI: **

_**Detention in the Room with the Disappearing Door**_

Severus Snape woke up early Sunday morning and was surprised to see that it was snowing. He was particularly surprised to see that it was snowing inside their dormitory.

After brushing the snow off his trunk, he dressed, grabbed his cloak—just in case—and descended the stairs into the common room. It was snowing in there, too; icicles hung from the banister and mantel, and stray flakes fluttered past his nose as he pulled on his cloak and headed for the Fat Lady's portrait.

The corridor outside appeared to have been hit by a blizzard. The snow was two feet deep at the sides of the hall and even higher in the center. After trudging to the statue of Lachlan the Lanky he paused, trying to remember the incantation for melting snow. The only thing that came to his mind, however, was James' and Sirius' experimentation with the Weightless Charm. Deciding to take a chance, Severus pointed his wand at himself and murmured: "_Incumbinuo._" A tingling sensation spread throughout his skin as the pressure of gravity disappeared; Severus kicked off the floor, maneuvered across the ceiling of the corridor, and pushed himself down the stairwell.

Fifteen minutes later he had learned two things: that the snow drifts upstairs were nothing compared to those in the Entrance Hall, and that Mrs. Norris didn't notice students who were floating fifteen feet above her head. Severus muttered the counter-charm and dropped into the snow drifts outside Ted's private lab.

After recommending a particular brand of aftershave to the Jarvey, he stepped inside and was greeted with an enormous yawn and a grin from the Potions master.

"I am not a morning person," Ted announced unnecessarily. "But I am having a good morning today... I think I've finally found a lead worthy of our attention!"

* * *

"—Hollandus, of course, published in 1670—but that doesn't explain its fascinating relationship with the earlier theorems, which had almost _parallel_ effects, if you take into account how much of Geber's work they understood—"

Severus continued his animated analysis of Ted's latest idea, only pausing for an occasional forkful of lunch, while the other Marauders nodded and said "Uh huh" and generally pretended that they had even the slightest idea what he was talking about. Gudgeon, Longbottom, Greenwood and Evans sat on the other end of Gryffindor table, laughing and grinning triumphantly. The Great Hall was full of snow, now so high that they had to dig through it to find the benches. Flakes were still trickling from the enchanted ceiling in a steady stream, which was odd because they could clearly see the bright sun and clear sky outside.

Severus' monologue was interrupted when McGonagall came by and informed them that their detentions would be held at six o'clock sharp.

"I guess that means we have to actually get started on our homework, then," James sighed.

After finishing their lunch—the pudding, appropriately enough, was ice cream—the Marauders trekked up the seven flights of stairs overlooking the Entrance Hall, passing snowball fights and corridors lined with enchanted snowmen as they rose. After retrieving their homework and narrowly escaping an icicle-wielding Peeves, James and Sirius conjured up two sleds and they raced down the stairs far more quickly than they'd ascended.

Outside they shed their cloaks and gloves with relief and settled beneath the beech tree by the lake.

"The snow was pretty good," Sirius admitted, "but it's nothing compared to what we've got coming."

"_If_ we can figure out how to get exactly one drop of the potion into the mouths of exactly half the school," Severus said. "Too much could be disastrous—we can't just dump it in the pumpkin juice and hope the people we want to take a swig do."

"We've got the Invisibility Cloak," James pointed out.

"But McGonagall will be expecting that," Remus said. "And I doubt we'll have enough _time_ for one person to do it all—how many people are we trying to get, anyway?"

"Everyone who signed the petition," Sirius answered, beginning to tick them off on his fingers. "That's Frank, Gudgeon, Alice and Lily, all the prefects from every house but Slytherin, plus the Head Boy and Girl and at least twenty other people—and the teachers: McGonagall, Filch, Kettleburn, Pince, Hooch and Vector. And of course we'll do the Carrows, Wilkes and Rookwood gang—"

"And Avery," Severus added. "Sixth year Slytherin, face like a squashed flobberworm? Brown hair?"

"What'd he do?" Remus asked, frowning.

"He's a git," Severus and James answered in prompt unison.

"So that's fifty-one people right there. And then we probably want to do some more, just to add to the confusion..." Sirius said.

"Do the other houses' Quidditch players as well," James suggested. "And Bertha Jenkins, because she irritates me..."

"Sixty-nine..."

"All the first years!"

"James! What's wrong with first years?" Remus demanded.

"They're titchy—"

"That's significantly more than a hundred," Sirius announced. "Why don't we just figure out the rest as we go along?"

"Because your woefully inadequate planning skills have failed to address the original problem—how do we get one drop into every person we're after?" Severus asked again.

"I still think the Invisibility Cloak will help," James said. "I could leave halfway through dinner to 'use the loo', slip on the cloak, come back in and put a drop on everyone's fork."

"That might work for Gryffindor table," Severus mused, "and Hufflepuff. It's closest to Gryffindor and their observational skills are nearly as lacking as yours. But for Slytherin and the High Table we're going to need something more devious."

"What about invisibility paint? They were advertising it in the _Prophet _just yesterday—"

"But it's incredibly expensive, Padfoot, and it doesn't work on textiles—why do you think Invisibility Cloaks are so rare? I don't feel like streaking in the Great Hall," Remus said.

"Yeah... but it would work on Skittles," James said thoughtfully, turning towards Severus. "Think about it, Sev—we dunk you in paint, throw a silencing charm on you and _voila,_ an undetectable cat. And you could get up onto the High Table and around the Slytherins in cat form, you're smaller and your reflexes are so much better... You could carry a little eyedropper of potion in your mouth and squeeze it onto their food..."

"Why do all your brilliant schemes always involve my total humiliation?"

"It doesn't matter," said Sirius. "Like Remus said, it's too expensive, and if we ordered some it wouldn't get here in time anyway. Let's just get started on the stupid essay before it's six o'clock and McGonagall's giving us another lecture for being late."

Most of the next two hours was wasted on the utterly useless essay Greebe had set—_Vampires cannot be overcome by ignorant buffoons. Discuss._—and the next was filled with a jumble of even more useless facts as they prepared for the next day's History of Magic exam.

Eventually James' watch read 5:42. The Marauders gathered up their belongings and reentered the school, noting with relief that the snow had finally vanished; after depositing their books in Gryffindor tower they hurried back downstairs and found not only McGonagall, but also Greebe and Filch waiting for them.

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Black, you will be working with Mr. Filch," McGonagall said briskly. "Mr. Snape, with Professor Greebe; Mr. Lupin, please come with me."

Remus cast pitying glances on them before following her up the stairs. Filch smiled nastily and beckoned James and Sirius forward; they followed him down the abandoned corridor to the left. Only Severus and Greebe remained; the Defense professor was looking down at him with that same particularly unpleasant glare that prickled the hair on Severus' neck. Not that he was _scared_ of Greebe, the man was a pitiful wizard, after all... but there was something about him...

He followed the professor up the marble staircase, climbing higher and higher until they were on the seventh floor once more. Severus' first, wild thought was that he was to return to Gryffindor tower for some reason, but Greebe marched right past the corridor that led to the Fat Lady's portrait, instead stopping in front of a huge vase that marked the end of the corridor. He turned smartly on his heel—nearly colliding with Severus, who dodged just in time—and continued back down the way he'd come, passing a large tapestry covered in trolls that appeared to be wearing tutus. Severus blinked in confusion but followed him down to the other end of the corridor. They stopped before a round window that showed the setting sun and Greebe turned about again. Severus jumped to the side, and Greebe walked back towards the vase for a second time. He stopped near the tapestry—in front of a plain wooden door Severus was certain hadn't been there before.

"I've heard," he said quietly, "that you consider yourself quite the little prodigy when it comes to potions, Snape."

Severus did not respond.

"So," Greebe continued in the same tone of soft malice, "I thought you might be grateful for the opportunity to put your so-called _talent_ to good use..." Without looking away from Severus he placed one hand on the door and pushed it open, revealing a dark, airless room about the size of Severus' dormitory—without a doubt the filthiest place he'd ever laid eyes on. "As you can see, this potions storeroom is in need of a through cleaning and organizing. It would take most students a week, but I'm sure your exceptional skills will be more than enough to help you along. If you run out of supplies you may call the house-elves—and, of course, no magic."

Greebe stood aside expectantly, holding the door open for Severus to enter. He stepped through the doorway hesitantly, unsure what to expect. It certainly wasn't for Greebe to snatch his wand from his sleeve, snort contemptuously and slam the door shut.

And then, to Severus' horror, the door disappeared.

He called Greebe some names that would have gotten him a month's worth of detention from McGonagall, then turned around to analyze the situation. The situation, as far as he could tell, was exceedingly moldy, dirty, grimy and every other synonym for "disgusting" he could think of. The room was laid out simply—probably so as not to distract from the mess: a small table perched on the floor, and the walls were covered with shelves that held a multitude of cobweb-shrouded shapes—probably potions beakers. Dust lay over everything, in some places over a centimeter thick; spiders hung from the ceiling like sentries on guard; the floor seemed to have long given up the battle with mildew... Just looking at it all made Severus want to go take a long, hot shower with extra soup.

"And the bastard didn't even give me anything to clean _with,_" Severus murmured to himself. "Unless I'm to call a house-elf for that, too? Elf!"

A loud _crack_ echoed through the tiny room, probably startling trillions of bacteria. Severus was more concerned with the elf that had just appeared by his feet; it had enormous blue eyes, large, flapping ears and was looking up at him with an expression of pure and mindless devotion.

"Master is calling Trinket, sir is?"

"Yes. I need... I need whatever materials you think are necessary to clean up this room."

Almost before Severus had finished speaking, a large assortment of cleaning equipment—rags and mops, sponges and buckets—appeared in the corner, shooting a century's worth of dust into the air and making Severus cough and nearly gag.

Two minutes later, when the dust had settled somewhat and he could breathe again, Severus continued: "Thanks. You may leave now."

"Trinket is not doing nothing, sir," the elf replied modestly. "Master is calling Trinket should he need her again, yes?" Another _crack_ rattled the jars on their shelves as the house-elf disappeared.

Severus rolled up his sleeves and grimaced. _This is not going to be pleasant._

He had no watch or other means of tracking time, but after roughly an hour had passed Severus was wholly convinced that Greebe really _was_ a Death Eater and the purpose of this detention was to kill him. This wasn't simply a matter of "cleaning and organizing"—it was extermination and elimination, too. _Like curse-breaking, but without the glory,_ Severus thought glumly.

Half the potions lined so innocently on the shelves seemed to contain acids; many had cracked open at some point, resulting in shelves covered with a layer of burning liquid beneath the dust. The other half seemed to be employed as homes for a multitude of unpleasant creatures: teacup-sized spiders that leapt out from behind the vials and attempted to bite him, only to suffer death by stomping; doxies which flew out in packs and did succeed in biting him—fortunately he'd spotted a jar of Doxycide on one of the shelves just as things were getting nasty—and then there were the Bundimun, the fungi-with-eyes, which, though thankfully pacifistic, were creepy and difficult to remove.

After eradicating the living inhabitants of the room, Severus started in on the inanimate residents—the massive piles of cobwebs drifting over the shelves, the heaps of dust, the mold-civilization that had grown across half the floor, the dirt and grime that discolored the potion bottle labels, making it impossible to tell what anything was... What felt like centuries later, he was exhausted and filthier than he'd ever been in his entire life, but the room was as clean as any other centuries-old, abandoned storeroom.

_I need a glass of water,_ he thought to himself, coughing yet again as he dumped the last pile of dust into the rubbish bin. He sighed and turned about to find a pitcher and glass on the spindly old table. Severus approached it warily—yawning, which made him cough again—but there it was, clean and bright and clear water, perfectly drinkable. He poured a glass and settled onto the floor to rest.

_I wonder what Remus and James and Sirius are doing... I wonder what time it is... I wonder when Greebe's coming back..._

The last thought made Severus stand back up on his protesting legs; he walked over to the closest shelf and examined it for a moment. There were tiny brass plaques on the shelves that detailed where every potion was to be placed—but despite his best efforts and the use of multiple cleaning solutions, most of the words were still hidden by grime. Severus frowned and started chiseling away at the dirt with his fingernails; remarkably, it soon gave way, revealing the words _Draught of the Living Death._ He moved on to the next plaque, sighing—_I wouldn't put it past Greebe to have enchanted these specifically, so that I have to wear my fingers to the bone..._

Perhaps another hour later that task was done and the fingers on Severus' right hand were aching relentlessly. So, using his left hand, he started removing every single potion from the shelves, piling them first on the table, then in stacks on the floor around it. All that remained now was to replace them...

Half of the potions Severus recognized by sight. He put those away first, grateful that the plaque-cleaning experience had at least given him a through knowledge of which shelf each potion belonged on. Another two dozen vials had legible labels; Severus put those away too. Then he started examining the potions he didn't recognize, opening the vials one-by-one so he could view the potion without a thick layer of glass in the way. Some he recognized by smell, others by texture... He continued shelving them, mechanically, his mind almost unaware of what he was doing... so when he reached for the vial after the last, he was surprised to see it wasn't there. He was done. _Finally,_ Severus sighed, collapsing to the floor. He glanced once around the room, slightly proud of his handiwork.

A few minutes later the door still had not reappeared and there was no sign of Greebe. Severus sighed and snapped his fingers. Another _crack_ announced the house-elf's arrival.

"Um... Trinket, I think it was? Trinket—go... go tell Professor Greebe that Severus Snape finished his work and is still in the potions storeroom on the seventh floor," he said wearily.

"Yes sir, I is will be telling him this... but sir should must be knowing that there is no potion storeroom on the seventh floor!" Trinket squeaked.

"Of course there is," Severus snapped. "What do you call this bloody place then?"

"This be the Come and Go Room, sir! The professors is calling it the Room of Requirement!"

Severus blinked tiredly, wondering if he might possibly be dreaming. "What's a Room of Requirement?"

Trinket explained thoroughly what a Room of Requirement was and how to find and use it. It was a mark of how fascinating her explanation was that Severus only yawned twice as she gave it.

"So this room... it gives you whatever you want?"

"Whatever Master _needs,_" Trinket corrected. "Yes. Master seems he is needing sleep, now—Trinket is fetching Professor Greebe."

She vanished with yet another _crack._ Severus leaned against the wall, his eyes drifting closed. Moments later the wall behind him swung open and he fell backwards into the corridor.

"Get up," Greebe snapped. He stuck his head in the room, surveying Severus' work. "Very well. Now get to your common room."

Severus did not need to be told twice. He took his wand, walked as fast as he could down the corridor, muttered "Palindrome" to appease the Fat Lady, and stumbled into the Gryffindor commons.Remus, Sirius and James were all in armchairs before the fire, and all three were fast asleep. The thought of collapsing in a fourth chair and drifting into dreamland was so tempting Severus had to pinch himself to stay awake; he debated briefly whether or not to wake his friends, decided he wanted to hear their stories, and shook them awake.

James yawned and sat up first. "Merlin, Severus—you're filthy. And it's—" his eyes widened. "It's two o'clock in the morning! Did you just get back?"

Severus nodded stiffly as Remus and Sirius came slowly to life.

"I certainly don't envy you," James continued. "Greebe is a git. Filch wasn't pleasant, though; he made Sirius and me mop all the corridors on the first three floors—said the snow had melted onto them, making puddles... ha. They were drier than one of Binn's lectures."

"I just had to do lines," Remus said. Sirius muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'lucky dog'. "—but what were _you_ doing all this time, Sev? You've got bite marks on your neck and hands, and it looks like someone dragged you through a dust factory—"

"He made me organize a potions storeroom that doesn't exist," Severus said grimly. "But it was worth it in the end... I know I'm going to regret telling you this, but I know where we can find a stash of invisibility paint."

* * *

Hmmm hmmm hmmm, yeah. I honestly didn't realize it'd been so long since I'd updated.

-Mob approaches, bearing pitchforks and growling.-

Er...

-Author attempts to back away slowly. Mob charges forward and pummels author into ground.-

Sirius: Hey, look! They decapitated the author! w00t!

Severus: Chatspeak is a mark of the unmistakably puerile brain, Padfoot.

James: OMM LOL :P

Severus: -shudders-

Remus: OMM?

Sirius: oh my merlin

Remus: You forgot the punctuation. And capitalization. Skittles is going to have a nervous breakdown.

James: ROFLMAO lookit the mob and all the pretty carnage LOL

Severus: I suppose this means the chapter has ended? No questions? No author's notes? We can't exactly have author's notes without an author.

Sirius: i'll write it!!!

Severus: NO. You can't even spell "I'll" correctly. Imbecile.

Sirius: Fathead.

Severus: Git.

Sirius: Nogglewofter.

Severus: What?

James: BRB

And then the chapter ended.


	33. When Manipulating the First Three

DISCLAIMER: Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream; the fandom'll toss you overboard if you think I own HP.

DEDICATION: Wow. Wow wow wow. Thank you all so very much for the last chapter's wonderful reviews. You really made me smile. And blush. And laugh. Thank you all! In return, I present to you: the long awaited, much anticipated, never overrated, sure to leave you sated, PRANK chapter! Hope you enjoy!

**

* * *

**

It Falls to the Young Chapter XXXII:

_**When Manipulating the First Three Dimensions Just Isn't Enough**_

Severus paced his dormitory anxiously. The plan was going smoothly—he had left Charms early with a "terrible headache," presumably to go to the Hospital Wing; in reality this was his alibi for missing dinner. Andromeda had agreed to cover for his total lack of presence in the Hospital Wing, and now he was waiting for the others to get out of class...

Sirius burst through the door. "We're ready," he said with a huge grin. "_And_ we found two more newspapers in the rubbish on the way back. Now grab the cloak and let's go!" Severus wrapped James' Invisibility Cloak around himself and followed Sirius out of Gryffindor tower. James and Sirius were waiting in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his tutu-wearing trolls; Sirius joined them in a casual discussion about Quidditch as Severus paced the corridor.

_I need to be doused in invisible paint, unfortunately. I need to be doused in invisible paint, unfortunately. I need invisible paint..._

A plain wooden door suddenly appeared in the wall. All four Marauders darted inside; Remus closed the door with a _snap..._ Severus blinked at a room that was most definitely _not_ designed to store potions. The floor was no longer composed of mildew-infested wood; now it was bright white marble that stretched across the space and dipped down in the room's center to create a small bathtub with one shining faucet. Fluffy blue towels were stacked in one corner, but otherwise the room was empty.

"It's a bathroom," Sirius muttered. "All this for a bathroom?"

Severus, who had learned not to take the room so lightly, knelt beside the sunken tub and flipped on the faucet... out poured a river of silvery, shimmering paint. He dipped one finger in the liquid and held it up.

"You have to let it dry first," Remus explained, joining him at the bathtub's edge. "Otherwise you'd never be able to find it."

"You mean—it's a bathroom with _paint_ in the pipes? Wicked..." Sirius grinned as he and James approached. "Well, Sev? Hop in!"

"I think I'd prefer to put that off as long as possible," Severus said dryly.

"We have to be in Defense in fifteen minutes," James pointed out, "and we don't know how long that stuff takes to dry."

Severus sighed but transformed. The bathtub was half-full by now; he poked the silvery paint tentatively with one paw. A second later he felt Sirius' hands picking him up... dropping him... and suddenly everything he could feel was paint. It was gooey and sticky and oozed between his toes and through his fur; Severus spat some out of his mouth and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

_Sirius, you are officially dead._

"You agreed to this, remember?"

_I was obviously under the influence of something at the time._

Severus craned his neck up and saw Remus turn off the faucet. The werewolf rolled up his sleeves and stuck one finger in the paint gingerly, as Severus had; then he scooped up a large handful and started scrubbing Severus' head vigorously.

_Ow, ow, watch the ears—_

"Oh, stop whining," James said, starting on Severus' back. "You don't want random parts of you floating about the Great Hall, right? It would completely ruin the effect."

Ten minutes later a thoroughly disgruntled and thoroughly paint-coated Severus was stretched across a pile of the fluffy blue towels. He glared at the others, who had the cheek to look _amused..._ They waved good-bye and headed off for Defense, leaving Severus to be bored out of his mind.

_Well, is this the Room of Requirement or not? I need something to do..._

Another ten minutes later Severus was purring contentedly, finally able to watch the ending of _Peter Pan_.

* * *

"Severus?" Remus called. "Severus, are you in here?"

_Right by your feet._

Remus searched the floor, his eyes passing directly over Severus multiple times. Finally he reached down and Severus batted his hand with a paw.

"Merlin, you _are_ there. That stuff really works... Alright, I have an eyedropper full of your spaghetti sauce in my pocket; I'll give it to you when we get close to the Great Hall. Sirius has the refills, if you need them."

Severus nodded—though the gesture was wasted on Remus—and followed his friend into the corridor. Remus slipped him the tiny eyedropper after they'd reached the ground floor and held the door open slightly longer than necessary as he entered the Great Hall.

_Good luck, Severus._

"Hey Moony—how's Severus doing?" James asked aloud as Remus joined them at the table. _You here, Sev?_

_Yes. I'm sitting on the podium Dumbledore uses for announcements._

Sirius laughed, tried to disguise it as a coughing fit, and failed miserably. But this was Sirius, so no one noticed.

_You're doing the teachers first, then?_ James asked, just as dinner appeared throughout the Great Hall.

_Yes—they'll be the trickiest._

Severus leapt from the podium and hopped onto the High Table. He crept carefully across the tablecloth until he reached his first victim: Professor Kettleburn, who taught Care of Magical Creatures. A single, practiced squeeze of the eyedropper later, Kettleburn's forkful of dinner gained an extra ingredient.

_One down, a few hundred more to go,_ Severus reported.

The Marauders cheered him on silently as he slinked down the table, spiking Hooch's wine, Vector's beans, and Pince's, Filch's and McGonagall's forks. After finishing he leapt off the table and hurried over to Sirius for a new eyedropper's worth of potion.

_This is a lot easier than I'd expected. Go ahead and get started on Gryffindor, Moony—I think I'll have time to handle both Slytherin and Ravenclaw._

Remus gave him a small salute anyone else would have interpreted as a scratch of the head. He made his excuses to the others and slipped out of the hall, only to return seconds later covered in the Invisibility Cloak.

_It's really not fair,_ Sirius pouted. _Moony gets the fun job... we just have to sit here and try to maintain two conversations at once._

_That's because people naturally suspect you,_ Severus answered, moving along the Ravenclaw table with new-found ease. _Moony is a prefect and therefore above such contemptible behavior as spiking people's drinks._

_Ha ha, _said Remus.

_On that topic, Remus, the easiest way to do it is to put a drop on their forks—they're bound to stick those in their mouths at some point._

_Except for James, who likes to use his fingers._

_Shut up, Padfoot._

Severus peered along the table at the Ravenclaws, counting... _Okay, I've done exactly half of this table. Now on to the Slytherins._

_And I've got half the Gryffindors,_ Remus replied. _You're right, Severus—this is a lot easier than I thought it'd be. People don't really pay that much attention, do they?_

Severus fetched yet another eyedropper from Sirius and hurried across the room to the Slytherin table. Soon exactly half his former house-mates had consumed his wondrous spaghetti sauce.

_I'm done,_ he announced.

_Me too,_ Remus said triumphantly. _No, wait—I forgot Bertha Jenkins. Just a second... Okay, now I'm done._

_This has been a marvelous success,_ James declared.

_Yeah. Let's have a toast,_ Sirius said, picking up his glass. _To pranking! To the Marauders! To spaghetti sauce!_

Remus appeared, visible once more, at the double doors that led into the Entrance Hall. "Hey—what did I miss?" he asked, sliding back onto the bench between Sirius and James.

"Oh, nothing much..." Sirius said casually as Severus deposited the last eyedropper into his hand. _We just pulled the best prank the world has ever seen..._ _Ow! Hey, Sev—is that you?_

Severus, who had jumped onto the bench, crawled across Sirius' knees and settled between him and Remus. _I'm a hungry, invisible cat. Feed me._

The visible Marauders rolled their eyes, but a disproportionate amount of their dinners somehow ended up on the napkin Remus had placed on his knee, right in front of Severus' nose.

* * *

"Happy Saturday, Severus!" James shouted in his ear. Severus groaned. "Come on, up and at 'em—we've got to get to the post owls before they arrive with the _Prophet_!"

Severus groaned again and pulled himself slowly upright. He felt extremely raw and sore, a condition he was sure had a lot to do with the fact that it had taken him two hours of rigorous scrubbing to get the paint off his skin the night before. After glancing at the clock and noting it _was_ time to wake up, he threw on some robes, helped James and Remus pry Sirius out of bed, and finally descended with the others into the common room.

There people were chatting, revising, preparing to leave for breakfast—everything was perfectly normal for a September morning. The Marauders left Gryffindor tower and followed the twisting stairs all the way to the Entrance Hall, where they passed through the double doors out into the cool, dew-covered morning. After the Marauders had settled near the same beech tree they'd plotted beneath the Sunday before, Sirius pulled a miniaturized stack of _Daily Prophets_ from his pocket and enlarged them. Then they settled on the grass, looking for owls.

"How do we know which ones are from the _Prophet?_" Severus asked.

"They fly together in a big clump... like that one there! _Accio!_" Sirius shouted, pointing his wand at the flock of birds flying steadily towards the school.

"_Accio!_"

"_Accio!_"

"_Accio!_"

The Marauders collected the entire flotilla of owls and petrified them.

"Now for the moment of truth..." James whispered. Severus picked up a barn owl and stared closely into its eyes. The owl's mind was simple, to say the least—he had no trouble discerning the person this owl's _Prophet_ was for.

"This one's for our esteemed Head Girl, Malfalda Hopkirk. Replace it with a Friday."

Five minutes later they released the post owls; those now bearing the Friday edition of the _Prophet_ went to the members of the faculty and student body who had consumed a drop of Severus' potion.

"Well," James said, grinning broadly, "let's go have breakfast."

Inside the Great Hall life appeared to be continuing as usual. Students discussed the same topics as everyday—friends, Quidditch, schoolwork—those who read their edition of the _Daily Prophet_ saw the date they expected to see, and Evans and Greenwood were frantically revising for the Transfiguration exam they'd had yesterday.

"Sirius," Greenwood asked desperately, "what exactly is the theory behind the Silencing Charm? I know the basics but—"

"Don't worry," Sirius said, grinning broadly as he helped himself to the cornflakes, "the theory's not on the test—you just have to do it."

Greenwood's eyes widened in shock. "How do you know? You haven't been going through McGonagall's desk, have you?"

"Of course not," James said. "Padfoot would _never_ do something like that."

Evans and Greenwood shot them suspicious looks throughout the rest of breakfast. Soon, however, people rose to leave... and that was when the arguments started.

"Where are you going, Doris? We have Charms in five minutes!"

"Don't be stupid, it's Saturday."

"—and her copy of the _Prophet _says it's Saturday, but mine says it's Friday—"

"Don't forget you have detention tonight, Florence—"

"What are you talking about, Professor?"

James, Remus, Sirius and Severus exchanged grins. "Why don't we go play a bit of Quidditch?" James suggested. "By lunchtime things ought to be really interesting."

The Marauders left the school building once again and headed out to the Quidditch pitch. James and Sirius were thrilled to have the place to themselves; usually the field was either full of pick-up games or being used by the teams for practice. After checking with his eyes and mind to be sure they weren't being watched, Severus transformed and joined the others in the air.

It was a thoroughly enjoyable morning. Severus discovered that the golden Snitch was an irresistible temptation to his cat-instincts; other notable targets included James' glasses and the Quaffle, though the Bludgers were as much of a pain as usual. It was a little past noon when, happy and sweaty, the Marauders landed, returned their brooms to the shed and made their way across the grounds towards the school.

Inside the atmosphere was not half as calm. By the time he reached Gryffindor tower, Severus had heard at least fourteen students complaining because they had been assigned detention for not being in class on Saturday; others were speculating about why Professors Tonks and Flitwick had canceled classes suddenly and without warning, and still others were running about trying to find anyone who knew what was going on. Inside the Gryffindor common room the confusion was just as bad; Lily Evans cornered them immediately, demanding to know why they'd skipped Transfiguration and if they knew why Ted Tonks wasn't in the potions classroom.

"One—because we wanted to play Quidditch instead, and two—how should we know?" Sirius answered. "If you'll excuse us, I want to go take a shower before lunch."

Lunch, as it turned out, made the scenes in the corridors look peaceful. By now most of the students and teachers had discovered that half the school thought it was Friday and the other half Saturday; everyone, however, was completely convinced that they were correct and the _other_ half of the school was playing some sort of joke.

McGonagall had actually gotten into a row with Ted after he'd pointed out that she shouldn't be giving detentions for missing class since there were no classes on Saturday. The It's-Friday-Not-Saturday arguers were apparently winning, as they had the more stubborn teachers and prefects on their side; those who thought it was Saturday seemed to be much more relaxed about the whole thing.

"You four!" McGonagall shouted over the clamor of the Great Hall. The Marauders looked up from their sandwiches to see her looming over them angrily. "Detention for the lot of you and forty points from Gryffindor! I suppose you think you can miss your test just because someone's played a joke—"

"We did take the test," said Severus. "And it _is_ Saturday."

"No cheek, Mr. Snape!" she snapped.

"No, seriously," said Sirius, grinning.

"Another ten points!" McGonagall spotted a group of Ravenclaws just entering the Great Hall and hurried over to confront them. Severus glanced up at the giant hourglasses; they were noticeably emptier than they'd been four hours ago.

"I wonder what they'll do about the points," Remus said idly, spreading mustard on his sandwich.

"Dumbledore will work it out," Severus answered. He glanced along the high table where some more Friday-Saturday arguments had broken out; the Headmaster was sipping his drink and watching the chaos about him with the air of a man at an amusing Quidditch match. "He'll definitely work it out."

The Marauders spent the early afternoon strolling about the school, observing the confusion that was their handiwork and exchanging self-satisfied congratulations. After an hour and a half, however, they retreated back outside, worried that Greebe might catch them in the corridors and drag them to Defense class. Severus lounged at the edge of the lake with Remus, watching Sirius and James tickle the giant squid; perhaps it was the warm afternoon sun, or the fact that he'd been up late the night before... but at some point his eyes fluttered gently closed and did not reopen.

"Severus? Severus!" Someone was shaking his shoulder.

"What?" he mumbled. "I just fell asleep..."

"Yeah, an hour ago," Remus said. "Hurry up, we'll be late for dinner!"

Severus rose, yawned satisfyingly and followed the others inside.

Dinner was, surprisingly, slightly less chaotic than lunch, because the argument had finally assumed the tone of formal debate rather than the bickering which had prevailed earlier. Halfway through Evans' detailed and reasonable explanation of why it _had_ to be Friday, McGonagall rose and fired sparks into the air with her wand.

"Will all those who believe today is Friday please raise your hands."

The prefects, first years, Quidditch teams, and various other randomly and not-so-randomly selected students and professors stretched their arms into the air.

"Will all those who believe today is Saturdayraise their hands."

Everyone else, including the Marauders, the Tonks family, Dumbledore and half the professors, raised their hands. The fact that Dumbledore thought it was Saturday caused a murmur of surprise to spread throughout the room, and McGonagall suddenly looked less certain of herself.

In the sudden quiet a lone owl fell from the sky, swooping across Hufflepuff table and landing on the Headmaster's shoulder. It was carrying a pale purple envelope.

"Why, thank you," Dumbledore said to the owl, pulling a sweet from his pocket and presenting it to the bird, which flew off in a flutter of brown feathers. Every eye in the Great Hall was on him as he slit open the envelope and pulled out a sheet of plain white parchment. His eyes scanned the missive briefly, than, twinkling like mad, looked out over the congregation of students.

"I have just received an anonymous letter I shall read to you word-for-word," he announced. "Ahem. _Dear Professor Dumbledore, please read the following message aloud. It should do a great deal to alleviate the mass confusion Hogwarts should currently be experiencing. Sincerely, Friends. The message is..._" Dumbledore paused a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching as though he was about to laugh.

"Yes?" McGonagall asked impatiently.

"_See? Perfect spaghetti sauce, every time,_" Dumbledore concluded.

Severus could not help but grin as half the room's occupants suddenly froze, the trigger words unlocking their memories of the missing Friday. Their faces went momentarily blank before they looked about sheepishly and began to either laugh or swear.

Ted Tonks was peering at him suspiciously from the High Table; Severus returned his gaze and when the Potions master mouthed the words "spaghetti sauce?" he was ready with a wink. Ted began to chuckle. McGonagall shot him a glare and his chuckles turned into a stream of laughter that doubled him over, tears of mirth collecting in his eyes.

"Ted?" Andromeda asked uncertainly, as everyone in the Great Hall stared at the laughing professor. "Ted, dear?"

"F-Fifty points to G-Gryffindor," he choked out, his laughter gradually subsiding.

McGonagall's eyebrows flew up. She glared at the Marauders for a moment before returning her attention to Ted. "For causing mass confusion in the school?" she said sharply.

"No—because it was so very, very clever. I didn't even suspect..."

"You know who did it, then?"

"Honestly, Minerva, what other student in the school could pull off that sort of potion, let alone at the spur of the moment?"

Severus found himself once more besieged by a multitude of staring face. "You lot did this?" Greenwood asked, looking from him to his friends. "That _was_ clever," she admitted. "You beat us this week."

"Very well then," McGonagall said sternly. "Mr. Snape, deten—"

"Oh, come off it," Ted interrupted. "Your lot disrupted lessons far more with the winter wonderland on Monday."

"_That_ was authorized," McGonagall snapped. "_This—_"

"Is, actually, authorized as well. I distinctly remember giving Severus authorization to brew that potion last Friday. Please relax, Minerva—it's all in fun, after all." McGonagall grumbled something that did not sound amused. Ted patted her back and continued: "There, there—just think of all the detentions you won't have to give. Would you like some more pudding?"

* * *

Again, thanks for the wonderful reviews! Ya'll boost my self-esteem more than my shrink. Anyway, I don't know if you noticed, but I updated the summary for this fic, and I'd really like to know what you think of it (and the chapter too)! Any suggestions or comments about things that should be in the summary but aren't or are and shouldn't be will be taken into consideration while I fine-tune it.

And of course... how'd you like the prank?

Sneak peek at next chapter: potion trouble leads to angst once more. Featuring a cameo by Orange Juice.


	34. Orange Juice and Insomemoria

**DISCLAIMER:** Test One: H(P) times (c) is not equal to M(E). Prove, showing all work. Winner gets a cookie.

**DEDICATION:** Everyone still with me after that horrendous wait. I apologize. Lengthy A/N below. For now, enjoy the chapter. (P.S. cliffie warning.)

* * *

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXXIII:**

**_Orange Juice and Insomemoria_**

The Great Spaghetti Sauce Prank seemed destined to go down in history. Not only had it been the sole topic of conversation at Hogwarts for the past two days, not only had it given the Marauders an obvious triumph in week three of the prank contest—but it also appeared to be the one stunt no one would ever duplicate.

For Severus refused to tell anyone the name of the potion, let alone where he'd found the directions.

"I said _no_ and that's final!" he shouted at an unusually persistent group of first year Ravenclaws, scaring them away from the Gryffindor table. "Merlin, is everyone at this school _trying _to kill themselves?"

"No, they just want to use it next Monday so they get a three-day weekend," James answered, spearing a sausage on his fork. "Half the school's been searching the library for the directions."

_Ha! Not only is the book in the restricted section, it's written in Latin... _"...so they'll never find it," Severus said, "and a bloody good thing, too. I wouldn't trust the N.E.W.T. students to brew it, let alone a horde of snot-nosed first years."

"That tricky, huh?" Sirius asked.

"According to Ted." A smile spread across Severus' face as he remembered the hours he'd spent with the Potion master Sunday—nearly the whole day, in fact, to make up for the time they'd lost on the Saturday-turned-Friday.

Ted had been singularly impressed with his joke and had complimented him extensively on it. Severus had felt more delighted by this than he could have imagined, which led him to the sudden realization that Ted's approval meant nearly as much to him as Dumbledore's—an unexpected discovery he'd pondered late into the night. Not to mention that they finally had results to show for their past month's work on Albion's Quandary: the record was now forty-four percent success rather than forty-two.

"Well, we still have to think up something good for this week," Remus said. "And remember McGonagall's new rule—we're only allowed to target the opposition this time."

Sirius snorted. "Face it: nothing's ever going to top the Great Spaghetti. Nothing. Ever. I'm surprised the others haven't given up already—I wonder what they've planned for this week? Usually they've pulled something by now."

James shrugged and reached for his orange juice. "Who knows?"

Severus frowned and lowered his head slightly so his eyes could dart about unnoticed beneath his curtain of greasy hair. He studied Greenwood and Evans, Longbottom and Gudgeon... then his eyes flashed up to McGonagall... All of them seemed far too interested in the fact that James was holding his glass of orange juice.

_Prongs. Put your glass down._

_What? Why?_

Severus picked up his own glass of juice and eyed it suspiciously. He sniffed it, stirred it about with his spoon, sniffed it again and held it up to the light.

"Very good," he said appreciatively. "I can't even tell what you've added."

Longbottom groaned. "Merlin, how can you tell? I thought it was perfect."

"I can't," Severus admitted, "but you're not usually so interested in the beverages James consumes."

"Could you drink it anyway?" Evans asked. "It took us a long time to get right, and it's nothing too embarrassing. Or permanent."

The Marauders glanced at each other. "Sure, why not?" Sirius said. "I'll go first." He jumped on top of the bench, grabbed his glass of orange juice and held it high above his head. "Hear me, hear me!" he shouted to the school. "For your entertainment, I am about to be pranked! Observe!"

He downed the entire glass of orange juice in one long, dramatic swallow, stood beaming at the crowd for a moment and then turned into a peacock with a small _pop_.

Nearly everyone in the hall laughed. Sirius ran about in circles, knocking the Gryffindors' and Hufflepuffs' breakfasts over with his long tail feathers, which for some reason were zebra-striped. "Me next," James said. He stood up—though not on the bench—drank his juice, and was promptly replaced with a large purple panda bear. James-the-panda glanced around dully for a moment before continuing to eat his cornflakes.

Remus lifted his glass; Severus lifted an eyebrow. "Together?" Remus nodded and they clinked their glasses. "Cheers," Severus murmured, swallowing the juice.

He was dimly aware of Remus becoming a green kangaroo, but Severus was too occupied with his own drink to pay attention. First to wash over his tongue was the usual, juicy taste that was the orange juice... but there was something added, a potion—_a transfiguration potion—_which tasted of chickweed, scarab beetles... and for some reason made him think of red and white spotted llamas... and even beneath that, another layer of flavor... one that made his tongue recoil as he dropped the glass to the floor... this flavor _burned_ on his tongue like fire, like the Cruciatus... it hurt... it hurt... _it hurts..._

Severus' eyes rolled into his head and he passed out.

* * *

"Eat your eggs, Nymphadora. Two more bites," said Andromeda.

Her daughter frowned and shook her head.

"Two more bites or you don't get any pudding at lunch."

"That's not _fair..._"

"If you don't have room for eggs, you don't have room for chocolate cake."

Nymphadora pondered that for a moment. "One bite of eggs and one bite of toast?" Andromeda nodded and instantly the food was crammed down Nymphadora's throat.

"Hear me, hear me!"

Andromeda turned automatically towards the Gryffindor table. Sirius was standing on the bench, a glass of orange juice raised high over his head.

"Look, Mum—it's Sirius!"

"I see, dear."

"For your entertainment, I am about to be pranked! Observe!" Sirius swallowed the juice and transformed into a black and white striped peacock.

"Wow! He's a birdie!" Nymphadora clapped her hands together and laughed with delight. On her other side Ted was chuckling as well. He caught Andromeda's eye and grinned.

"Looks like a Transfiguration Potion," he said as James turned into a panda. "And they've done a fine job of it, too..."

"It's certainly made Nymphadora's day," Andromeda replied dryly. "I wonder—" She stopped. Some sixth sense was screaming at her now; there was an eerie feeling in the air, something was wrong...

Remus turned into a kangaroo without any fuss. But Severus...

Severus collapsed, falling face-first into his corn flakes.

Andromeda was on her feet in an instant. Shocked whispers echoed throughout the room; she raced across the hall towards Severus, Ted at her right side, Dumbledore and Minerva at her left...

"What's happened to him?"

"He collapsed! He's not moving!"

"Is he _dead!?_"

"Out of the way!" Andromeda snapped, pushing aside the gaping Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. She shoved a terrified first year off the bench beside Severus and pulled out her wand, muttering diagnostic spells... _Heartbeat first—positive; breathing... _"He's not breathing. Minerva, help me get him on the floor. Will you lot _move!_" she shouted.

Dumbledore stepped forward; the force of his presence was enough to clear a six-foot circle in the area between the tables. Together Andromeda and Minerva slid Severus off the bench. All Ted's attention was focused on the broken glass of orange juice splattered across the stone floor; he was smelling it, prodding it with his wand...

"_Anapneo!_" Andromeda hissed, pointing her wand at Severus' chest. "_Anapneo!_"

Severus coughed once, weakly, then lay still again.

"What did you put in this?" Ted demanded, looking up at the shocked fifth and sixth years.

"J-Just what was in the others," Frank Longbottom whispered. "Lapidus' Animalis Potion... and extra coloring so he wouldn't notice. I swear we didn't mean to hurt him, ask McGonagall—"

"Ted?" Andromeda asked.

"I have an idea but I'll have to run some tests on what's left of the potion—but if he's through the initial shock I don't think he's in immediate danger. Get him to the Hospital Wing, I'll be up in a few minutes." Ted gathered up the remnants of the glass and ran from the room.

Andromeda conjured up a stretcher and levitated Severus onto it. Meanwhile Dumbledore untransfigured the other three Marauders; they crowded about Severus, looking terrified.

"Is he... he's going to be alright, right?" Remus asked.

"I don't know. Sirius, go get Nymphadora." Andromeda levitated the stretcher with another flick of her wand; she checked Severus' pulse and breathing again. They started towards the double doors, Dumbledore walking in front to clear the way; Andromeda followed with Severus and Minerva; Remus and James trailed behind them like lost sheep.

"Boys..." She heard Minerva's voice from behind her. "Boys, there's nothing you can do, and you have classes—"

"Bugger classes," Sirius snarled as he ran forward, Nymphadora's trembling hand clutched tightly in his.

"They're coming, Minerva," Dumbledore said quietly, "at least for now." He paused temporarily in front of the large oak doors, turning towards the school. "If anyone has any information about what just happened, I would sincerely appreciate it if they would share it with Professor Tonks, Professor McGonagall or myself."

Then he disappeared into the Entrance Hall.

Andromeda followed Dumbledore through the doorway and up the marble stairs towards the Hospital Wing, continuing to check Severus' heartbeat and breathing every few moments. They had just passed the History of Magic classroom when he began to scream and thrash about on the stretcher.

"James, Remus—help me," Andromeda gasped, trying to hold him down. "I don't want to petrify him unless we have to..."

The boys grabbed Severus' arms, leaving her to restrain his feet. They redoubled their pace down the corridor and finally Albus pushed open the door to the Hospital Wing. Andromeda had him in bed in an instant; Severus was still screaming, pushing feebly against her hands as she charmed off his robes and brushed the hair out of his eyes...

"No, no—please, don't—please—_please_—" he moaned.

"Can't you _do_ anything?" James demanded.

"Not until Ted gets back," Andromeda answered, sinking onto the foot of the bed. "I don't know what he's taken..."

For a few minutes the silence of the Hospital Wing was only broken by Severus' continual screams. Albus and Remus sat in the chairs beside his bed; Albus stroking Severus' hair gently, Remus curled up in a ball with his arms around his knees and tears shining in his eyes. James and Sirius sat next to each other on an empty bed; Nymphadora was crying softly, her head buried in Sirius' shoulder. Minerva paced the length of the room, looking worried and uncomfortable...

"Please don't—no—_please_—_FATHER, PLEASE! _"

At that moment Ted burst through the doors, looking winded and not at all optimistic.

"I was right," he said in tones that indicated he'd rather have been wrong. "A Death Eater spiked Longbottom's potion. Animalis has a strong enough flavor to hide anything."

"Is... Is he going to die?" Remus whispered.

Ted shook his head. "They weren't trying to kill him. Albus... he's taken Insomemoria."

Andromeda paled slightly. "What's that?" James asked.

"It's also called the Nightmare Elixir. You won't have heard of it; it's a Dark Arts potion, one of the worst in my opinion," said Ted. "The effects are similar to those of a Dementor; it forces the drinker to relive the worst moments of their lives... but the dark wizard who designed it 'improved' on that effect somewhat, forcing his victims to relive the physical pain of the memories as well. Memories of the Cruciatus curse, unfortunately, are particularly effective, as it's all in the victim's head anyway—"

Severus screamed again: a long, ear-piercing, horrified shriek that only died when he was forced to gasp for air.

"The antidote?" Minerva asked, glancing from Ted to Andromeda.

"The antidote takes twelve hours to brew," Andromeda said quietly. "Common side effects include nausea, dizziness, headaches, hallucinations, amnesia, brain damage and insanity. It is generally thought best just to let Insomemoria run its course."

"Which takes how long?" Sirius asked.

"Anywhere from six hours to a week, depending on how many bad memories one has," Ted answered.

Severus whimpered, trembling violently on the bed. No one present needed to be told that he would not recover in six hours.

"What do we do until then?"

Andromeda sighed and ran a hand over her eyes. "We wait, James. We douse him with Anti-Cruciatus and then we wait some more."

"Can we stay with him?" Remus asked. He was trembling almost as much as Severus. "Can we stay? W-Will he even know we're here?"

Ted explained gently that Severus was so completely tangled up in his memories that he wouldn't notice an earthquake, let alone who was with him. Andromeda frowned as she listened; it was the correct answer, of course, but what if...

"Albus?" she asked. The Headmaster looked up from Severus for the first time and Andromeda was taken aback by the grief in his usually-twinkling eyes. "Albus... you said at Headquarters that Severus has a sixth sense, of sorts, that he can see minds... Do you think, even though his other five senses are trapped in memory, he _would_ recognize the people around him?"

"Perhaps," Albus answered. "But not everyone—just those he has a mind-bond with. Myself, of course. Remus and Sirius and James... and Nymphadora."

Andromeda's jaw dropped. "_Nymphadora?_"

"Yes. They have spoken mind-to-mind, as it were, several times—and he cares a great deal for her. I am more surprised that he has not yet reached out to you and Ted... Though Severus is, understandably, distrusting of adults in general."

Severus screamed once more. He curled up into a ball and dug his long fingers into the pillows, sobbing harshly, tears streaming down his face...

"I believe, between the five of us, we should be able to keep vigil at his bedside around the clock," Albus continued quietly, his hand still caressing Severus' hair. "I will take the night shift. James, Sirius, Remus—I trust you yourselves know best who can afford to miss which classes. And, if your parents do not object," he turned towards Nymphadora, who was looking up at him through tear-filled eyes, "it would be most helpful if you could sit with Severus when we can't be here. Is that okay with you, Nymphadora?"

"I want to help Severus," she whispered. Albus glanced briefly at Andromeda, who looked towards Ted; together they nodded in approval.

"Very good, then," Dumbledore said. His eyes fell on Severus once again and he sighed wearily. "Or, at least as good as can be expected, given the circumstances."

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Hey ya'll. Once again, I apologize for the delay in uploading this chapter. I have been thinking about this story, though, and have come to several conclusions I would like to share with you.

1. Just to get it out of the way: THIS FIC WILL BE FINISHED. I WILL _NEVER_ LEAVE A FIC HANGING UNLESS THE GRIM REAPER GETS ME. So you can stop worrying about that.

2. I have come to the conclusion that I am badly in need of a beta- and not for proofreading. Allow me to explain. I never showed this fic to anyone until I had roughly forty-five chapters written. Then I let my sister read it. She enjoyed it a lot, complimented me extensively, and then pointed out that Severus was a Mary (Gary?) Sue. I blinked twice, did an OMG-she's-right-double-take, and my inspiration promptly died. I absolutely loathe Mary-Sue, and I want to fix the upcoming chapters, but I have read this fic over so many times in the course of writing and editing that it's really hard for me to see where there could be changes, additions or subtractions. Not to mention my frustration with the writing itself, for while I think it's pretty good, I did start this fic two years ago, and the plot and/or character ideas currently running around my head are much... well... better. This also hurts my inspiration. So I need a beta to 1. point out _specific_ places I could make Sev less Gary-Sue, with _specific_ suggestions. 2. Help me through the ending (I have about five or six chapters left to write-- not to post, to write). And 3. Get me back on a regular updating schedule. I think we'd all appreciate that.

3. So if you're interested, I could really use your help. I'd prefer to have someone I sort of "know" from multiple reviews. Someone willing to help me with the problems listed above. But there are perks- you get to read the next seventeen-plus chapters before they're posted, your name in the credits, plus the indescribable pleasure of my company! Woo-hoo:) So, any takers? Lemme know in a review, and I'll send you my email.

4. ..._And_ even if you're not interested in betaing, I still need to know what you thought about the chapter. Did you like it? Hate it? What about the prank? Were the characters realistic? If Sev was a llama, who would he spit on? What's the deal with the potion? Is Sev gonna be okay? If not, who will the Marauders annihaliate? How do you spell annihaliate? REVIEW! -grin-


	35. The Quidditch Jocks are United Once More

**  
DISCLAIMER: **Modern society has special, very friendly places with rubber walls for people who think I'm JK Rowling. ;)

**DEDICATION:** I was gonna dedicate this chapter to kayly silverstorm, who authored Had I Known, one of my favorite fanfics of all time (and I don't say that lightly,) since I just about fell over in shock when she reviewed (It's like getting a review from JKR herself, I swear, I LOVE that fic!), but really this chapter needs to be dedicated to twighlightshadow, who sent me a lengthy email "in the faint hope that it will help you get back on track", as she put it. I'd really like to thank everyone who's encouraged me over the past half year-- it has been horrendously long waits for the last half-dozen updates, and I apologize. I'd also like to thank everyone who offered to beta-read this fic; I must admit I was expecting maybe two or three responses at most, and the reception was quite overwhelming. I honestly wasn't sure what to do. BUT twighlightshadow offered some pertinent advice and did manage to get me back on track to the extent that I hope to finish this fic by the end of summer, so that school doesn't lead to more awful delays. (That doesn't mean you should panic; there's a good twenty chapters left, and they get longer too!) Anyway, thanks everyone. So this chapter is dedicated to twighlightshadow, and this dedication is dedicated to kayly, and that dedication is dedicated to... how about we just get on with the story?

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**  
It Falls to the Young Chapter XXXIV:**

_**The Quidditch Jocks are United Once More**_

It was two weeks until the next full moon, and yet Remus had shadows under his eyes.

Severus still trembled on the bed in the Hospital Wing. Tears still ran down his cheeks; he still whimpered and moaned, flinching away from nothing. His screams were silent now, the constant strain on his vocal cords had stolen his voice.

Remus was sitting by his bed, whispering reassurances, though he knew Severus couldn't hear them. He stroked Severus' hand gently; the past three days had taught them that physical contact was the one stimulus Severus would occasionally respond to—Sirius had taken to spending his shifts as Padfoot, curled up at his side. But Severus was, predictably, most calmed by the presence of the Headmaster. More surprising had been their gradual discovery: that the second most effective presence was Nymphadora's.

Andromeda had a theory, of course. She thought that perhaps Severus was reliving memories of the past four years—the years he'd spied, and the years in which his mutual enmity with the Marauders had been legendary—and, while caught in memories of that time, he wasn't _entirely _certain whether a Marauder's presence was good or bad...

"Good morning, Remus."

Remus looked up and saw Andromeda standing beside him, a small, forced smile on her face and potion bottles in her hands.

"Good morning."

Andromeda sat one of the bottles on the nightstand and uncorked the other; the sharp, familiar tang of Anti-Cruciatus potion filled Remus' nose. Knowing what she needed, Remus grabbed Severus' other hand and pulled his arms gently out of her way.

"Thank you," she murmured, tipping the potion down Severus' throat with practiced ease. As she reached for the nutrition potion Remus caught a glimpse of her face and the worry scrawled across it; and he knew that she worried not because they had to force Severus to drink, but because the job was so easy. He was too weak to resist.

She remained standing beside Remus after her work was done. Her eyes studied Severus' pale, frail form... "Remind me to keep him on the nutrition potion for another few weeks after he recovers," she said quietly. "He absolutely _has_ to gain some weight. It complicates matters when he ends up unconscious—which seems to happen far too often for my taste."

They heard the _click _of the door to Pomfrey's office, which had been converted into the Tonks' unofficial second residence in her absence. Nymphadora appeared from behind the privacy screens, holding a book and dragging her stuffed cat along by the tail; she crawled up onto the bed and settled at Severus' side.

"Remus? Will you read to us again?"

Andromeda patted Remus' shoulder, kissed Nymphadora's forehead, then Severus'; she gathered the empty potion vials and left.

"Of course," Remus said quietly. With one hand still wrapped around Severus', he took the book in the other and turned to the first page. "Chapter One: In which we are introduced to Winnie-the-Pooh and some bees, and the stories begin..."

Winnie-the-Pooh had just gone to visit Rabbit when Remus heard the double doors slam open.

"Stupid git—had to go and attract the teachers' attention, did you?"

"Shut your bloody trap, Gudgeon! If you'd shut it to begin with I wouldn't have to listen to your whining now—"

"_My_ whining? I'm the one with the broken nose, you pompous, arrogant—"

Remus placed the book on the bed, motioned for Nymphadora to stay where she was, and peered out through the curtains. Sirius and Davey—whose nose was bleeding—were glaring daggers at each other; James was at Sirius' side, looking defiant; Frank was behind Davey and all four of them appeared on the verge of an enormous row when the doors burst open once more.

"_What_ is going on?" Ted demanded.

"Flitwick sent us up here to wait for McGonagall..."

"He punched me!" Davey shouted, pointing at Sirius.

"You deserved it, you disgusting—"

"QUIET!" Ted barked. "In case you have forgotten, gentlemen, this is the Hospital Wing, not a ruddy dueling hall!" He paused for a moment, frowning at the students assembled before him. "Alright: you two, sit there. You two, there. We're getting to the bottom of this and we're doing it _now_."

Surprised by the harsh tone of their normally soft-spoken Potions master, the Gryffindors sat down on the beds he'd indicated.

"Now... what's the problem?"

"He punched me," Davey repeated, touching his nose gingerly and shooting a glare at Sirius.

"I can see that, Mr. Gudgeon." Ted waved his wand and Davey's nose returned to its usual shape. "Why did he punch you?"

"How should I know? We were just arguing and he lost it."

Ted turned to Sirius. "Mr. Black? Why did you punch Mr. Gudgeon?"

"He... He said... We were arguing and he made a crack about Sev—"

"It wasn't that bad," Frank interrupted. "You know he didn't want Snape hurt—he told you so himself. It was just an off-the-cuff insult—"

"He said that Severus was such a git his parents probably wouldn't come visit him in the Hospital Wing," James stated coldly.

Ted frowned. "I see." He paused for a moment, staring out the window... without turning around he continued: "Mr. Gudgeon, if you would care to enlighten me for a moment, I would like to hear everything you know about Mr. Snape's parents." Davey blinked. "Absolutely nothing, I presume?"

"Well, yes..."

"And so your remark was a shot in the dark. You were trying to hurt Mr. Black and that was the worst thing you could think of at the moment, correct?"

"I guess..."

"Which means," Ted concluded, "that what you said was a nasty, insensitive comment you should be ashamed of. It was also," here he turned to stare at Sirius, "made in complete and total ignorance—meaning that it was no worse than the other insults I'm sure you two exchanged—and it most _certainly_ did not merit a violent response, much less a punch in the face. For that you should be ashamed."

Ted allowed his words to settle for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing: "And now that we've settled that little matter, we should, as I said earlier, get to the bottom of this whole mess. From what I've been told, you lot were the best of friends a mere five weeks ago. What happened?"

"They started insulting Severus—"

"_Started?_ What the hell do you mean _started?_" Davey spat. "You lot started it, back in your first year! We've always gone after Snape, him and the rest of the Slytherins—and then you show up on the Hogwarts Express and suddenly you're best mates with that _git_, and you won't even tell us why!"

"That's a reasonable request, Mr. Gudgeon. Would you be satisfied if Mr. Potter and Mr. Black told you their story?"

James and Sirius gaped at Ted. "But we'd have to leave out like half of it—" James protested.

"_See?_" said Frank. "We never used to have such big secrets from each other—"

"They're not _our_ secrets—well, not all of them," Sirius said. "They're to do with the Order... and Severus—"

"Snape!" Davey flung his hands into the air in disgust. "Why does everything in the whole bloody school have to do with Snape!? You're falling all over yourselves defending that bastard—no, don't you dare say he's not," Davey spat, glaring at Sirius when he tried to interrupt. "Maybe he's civil to you lot, maybe he's not a Death Eater in training, but he made that Hufflepuff firstie cry the other day, I swear, and you know he scares the hell out of all the lowerclassmen even more than when he was in Slytherin. Glenda leaves the commons whenever he's there, haven't you noticed?"

Frank snorted. "But then, she's convinced there's a lethifold in the girl's bathroom, too, so that's not saying much." His eyes narrowed. "But I agree with the professor. I'd at least like to know _why_ I've lost two of my friends to a greasy git."

"You haven't. You haven't, Frank, I swear—but—I know he's a prat, sometimes, but..." James took a deep breath. "We hated him too, until the day we accused him of stealing our Transfiguration notes..."

For the next ten minutes James told a condensed and heavily edited version of their summer. He left out a lot: Severus' father and mother, all the episodes with Animagus transformations and the full moon, Severus' abilities with Legilimency, Diagon Alley... But as he talked Remus realized that the truly important details were still there: Severus' condition after that last meeting, the shock of Pettigrew's betrayal, the danger and laughter they'd shared on the Isle of Drear, the thrill—and fear—of riding a stolen motorcycle through the night, their horror at learning Severus had been thrown into Azkaban...

"Yeah. And so, um... yeah," James concluded.

"Yeah," Davey agreed. "Yeah."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Well, I still think he's a git, but… I do think I understand better now." Frank smiled hesitantly. "And now I just want to know why you couldn't have told us this five weeks ago and saved us the hassle?"

Everyone grinned and Remus sighed in relief. The Quidditch jocks were united once more.

"Oh—and, er," Davey began, "we've talked about it, and after what happened Tuesday, we decided to officially resign from the prank contest. You win."

"Have fun with Lily," Frank said, winking at James.

"And I was wondering—I mean, you've told us this much. Why did you get so mad about what I said, Sirius?" Davey asked.

A sudden depressed silence fell over the room, and Remus could hear Severus shaking on the bed behind him.

"That story is Mr. Snape's to tell," Ted answered quietly. "Though I am extremely doubtful that you will ever hear it. Suffice to say, his father is the sort of person for whom the Dementor's kiss was invented. We will not speak of his mother. I trust the two of you will refrain from alluding to them in the future?" Frank and Davey nodded hastily. "That is good," Ted sighed, "because should I hear you making another comment like the one that bloodied your nose, it will be detention. Now, Frank, Davey—I believe you should be headed towards my classroom at the moment."

The two sixth years ran out the door. Ted turned to Remus, who was still watching from between the privacy curtains around Severus' bed, and asked: "Any change?" Remus shook his head. Ted sighed again. "Well, whoever's not on duty needs to get to class. I've got to go head off McGonagall before she gives them another lecture..."

Sirius transformed into Padfoot; Remus held the curtains back for him as he entered the cubicle and hopped onto Severus' bed. Severus had temporarily stopped screaming and was now curled up tightly amidst the bedcovers, trembling and digging his fingernails into his arm where the Dark Mark had been. Nymphadora lay beside him, clutching Kitty to her chest and stroking his hair with one small, gentle hand. Padfoot maneuvered around them and stretched out along Severus' back; for a moment the scene was almost peaceful.

Then Severus' mouth opened once more in a scream no one could hear.

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I hope ya'll enjoyed that. If anyone's inclined to review, I would be interested to know what your favorite and least favorite parts of the fic are, overall. It's interesting to hear people's opinions. 

I'm thinking, as a reward for ya'll's dedication, about putting the next chapter up tomorrow. What do you think? ;) Huggbees!


	36. Just Another Bloody Living Nightmare in

DISCLAIMER: YES! I do own Harry Potter! He's a short, caped and bespectacled Lego figure in the bonus room! Wow, I'm lucky!

DEDICATION: This chapter brought to you by the letter 8, the square root of N and the genre angst.**  
**

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXXV:**

_**Just Another Bloody Living Nightmare in this Universe of Bloody Living Nightmares**_

_Cauda muris quattuor—four rat tails_

_Hemina cremoris hirudinis—half a pint of leech juice_

_Uncia veratri—ounce of hellebore_

_Pocillum lacertae sanguinis—salamander blood... but how much is 'pocillum'?_

Severus glanced up from the book and looked about nervously even as his hands continued slicing the hellebore. His eyes searched the dark, damp room he was so familiar with... but he knew there were no Latin dictionaries here, or any other books for that matter. Only the infinite rows of ingredient cupboards that loomed high over his head in the shadows, and the giant oak table upon which he was working, and the wooden crate he stood on so he could reach the table. No dictionaries. All the books were kept in Father's sanctum, the room at the end of the spiraling stairs he was forbidden to climb.

He had been up there only three times. Twice to clean the room—when the mess grew too much for even Father to stand—and once to leave the building altogether and enter a world he had only heard about. He had been introduced to a tall man named 'Riddle,' but the meeting was hazy in Severus' mind. It was his memory of the _outside_ that he treasured beyond all others: his memory of the stars, glittering overhead like a handful of pixie dust strewn across the sky—the smell of green life brimming in the grass and trees—the feel of the alien wind caressing his skin...

Severus realized he was daydreaming and stopped immediately. Like all other useless activities, it was strictly forbidden, and he had a far more immediate problem to deal with: his hands, still slicing, were nearly done with the hellebore. Soon he'd have to add the salamander blood, and he still didn't know how much a 'pocillum' was. He didn't dare pause to ponder it a moment; Father kept this room dark especially so he could drift silently inside and glare at Severus, unnoticed in the shadows... and if Father saw him stop working...

He guessed. Not continuing to brew wasn't an option, and the idea of _asking_ his father was so ludicrous it never crossed Severus' mind—so he made an educated guess. A guess, in fact, that was very nearly correct, and any Potions master at Hogwarts would have been proud to have a student who could calculate so closely the percentage of salamander blood necessary to balance the energy produced by a combination of leech juice and hellebore after taking the other ten ingredients into account...

'Very nearly correct,' however, has never produced a N.E.W.T.-level potion.

Severus added the salamander blood, the hellebore, held his breath... and the concoction exploded. Half-expecting that result, he dove under the table in time to protect himself from the hot liquid that splattered across the room; but his small sigh of relief turned into a whimper of fear when a large hand grabbed his hair and dragged him out from under the table.

"Idiotic, worthless_ bastard,_" Father hissed. Severus clambered to his feet; he was not to sit—let alone sprawl across the floor—in Father's presence, nor was he to look him in the eyes, nor speak when not addressed, nor offer an explanation when Father wasn't in the mood to hear one...

"You thought it would be _amusing_ to blow up my potions laboratory? Is that it?" Father snarled. "You thought—" here he tightened his grip on Severus' hair, so that Severus had to fight not to cry out, "—that it would be _amusing_ to ruin the potion Mr. Borgin is expecting tomorrow morning?"

"N-No, sir."

Father sneered and threw him to the floor. "Liar." He pulled his wand from his sleeve very slowly and deliberately, watching to be sure Severus saw every millimeter of the mahogany rod's thirteen inches appear.

Severus was curled in a quivering ball on the floor, staring up at his father and waiting with the resigned hopelessness of one who knows pain is coming and knows there is no avoiding it. The cold of the floor through his thin, ratty robes made him shiver; the appearance of the wand made him shiver noticeably. Father knew how much he feared the wand, and he used that to his advantage.

"Liar," Father repeated. "We know what happens to liars. _Crucio._"

Severus screamed.

Father canceled the curse sooner than he had expected, grabbed the front of Severus' robes and hoisted him into the air as though he was weightless. It was difficult, two inches from Father's crooked nose and still shaking from the Cruciatus, not to look him in the eyes, not to close his eyes, not to disobey...

"One and one _eighth _cup salamander blood, not one and one sixth, you pathetic, useless maggot. Do it again and get it _right,_ or there'll be hell to pay." Father spat in his face and dropped him to the floor once more, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the cauldrons on their shelves.

Only now, crumpled on the floor in a puddle of botched potion, did Severus let the tears fall. He slowly sat up and wiped the spit off his face with his sleeve; it smelled of Firewhisky, like everything else Father touched. Severus wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes; he was so tired, it had to be late—but he had to rebrew the poison, which would take at least three hours. It was the last of a dozen Mr. Borgin had ordered this week, the last of a dozen Severus had brewed. Father almost never brewed anymore, not when he had Severus to do the work; he simply took the credit and the money, bought more Firewhisky, and drank until he passed out in his bedroom. Severus did not mind—unconscious was how he liked his father best.

He was daydreaming again. Now he had to get up and work, when all he wanted was to slip down the corridor to the storeroom on the right, crawl beneath the tattered blanket on his makeshift mattress and fall asleep, preferably forever. Or at least for three more years, when he would be eleven and could run away to Hogwarts...

Hogwarts, A History was the one book Severus owned, the only book he'd ever dared steal—during the second cleaning of the forbidden room upstairs—and Severus read at least a page of it every night, no matter how tired he was, before falling asleep. It was the only dream he had—the hope that someday, somehow, someone would see fit to help him enroll at Hogwarts, where there was an enchanted ceiling and enormous, sunlit grounds and dormitories so Hogwarts would be his home and he wouldn't have to see Father ever again...

Another door slammed shut somewhere above him; Severus' eyes flashed open; he climbed shakily to his feet and began pushing the wooden crate towards the cupboards so he could reach the hellebore. One last, solitary tear fell from his cheek to the floor. As he left it behind, continuing towards the cupboards, Severus wished with everything he had that this was just a nightmare, just another bloody living nightmare in this universe of bloody living nightmares, that he would wake up at Hogwarts where Father would never find him...

And suddenly everything was dark.

_Severus?_

He felt sheets about him, he was in bed—_why, how? I never finished the potion, Father will kill me_—but the sheets weren't frayed, they were silk-soft and warm. The only sheets of that quality belonged to Father—_Merlin, he really will kill me..._

_Severus?_

Someone else was on the bed; Severus' heartbeat quickened... but it wasn't Father, he was far larger than that... and his mind burned with poisonous flames, never bubbled and sparkled and was certainly not _pink_.

_Sevvveeruus? Did you wake up?_

It took a good deal of effort for Severus to open his eyes; when he did he saw a bright blue pair right in front of his nose. The eyes belonged to a little girl, a little girl with pigtails. Severus blinked and then he remembered. _Nymphadora..._

_Of course, silly. I'm really glad you woke up, Severus. I was worried about you; you've been asleep a really, really long time..._

The memories were rushing back now; Severus bit his lip and tried to ask how many days 'a really, really long time' was—but his throat contracted painfully and no sound came out of his mouth.

_Oh, Mummy said you can't talk, Severus. She said you hurt your throat from yelling and you have to not talk and then it'll be better again._

Mummy... Andromeda Tonks. More memories. And her husband, Ted. Potions master. Quiet. Funny. Nymphadora's father...

_Father..._

Severus began to tremble violently once more. All the memories, everything he had worked so hard to lock away... It was all out in the open once more, and twice as vivid. Severus didn't know if he had the strength to lock them away for a second time.

_Severus? Are you 'kay? You don't look good. _Nymphadora was peering at him even more closely now, concerned; Severus lay on his back helplessly, looking up into her eyes and blinking back tears.

He had a sudden desire to sit up. His arms, unfortunately, refused to support his weight, but with Nymphadora's help he managed to maneuver his way up the pillows until he was essentially in a vertical position. Along the way Severus discovered that his arms and legs were not only weak, but rigid and shaking and extremely sore; that lead him to thoughts of the Cruciatus, which again reminded him of Father...

Severus held out his arms. Nymphadora climbed willingly into his lap; he wrapped his arms about her tightly and tried to pretend he wasn't crying. As unacknowledged tears poured down his face, his mind, of its own volition, darted in and out of Nymphadora's presence, strengthening their mental connection a hundred-fold so he would never be lost and alone in the dark ever again...

"Nymphadora? You've been awful quiet, is everything okay?" Andromeda poked her head through the curtains around his bed and stopped dead. They stared at each other for a second, the tears threatening to overwhelm Severus' vision. Then Andromeda sat beside him on the bed, took his shaking shoulders in her arms and laid his head on her chest; she kissed his forehead and began murmuring a soft stream of reassuring platitudes, which made Severus cry even harder.

He pulled away from Nymphadora's mind and plunged into Andromeda's, soaking up as much of the affection and reassurance and kindness he could hold, creating and strengthening whatever connection he had with her all in one go.

A moment later Ted appeared at the curtains; he did not hesitate but joined the growing congregation on the bed, ruffled Severus' hair and looked at him with relieved, anxious eyes. Severus darted into Ted's mind the moment he sat down. It was a field of soft green grass, basking in the sunlight, as comforting as the warm weight of Ted's hand on his shoulder. By the time he'd finished building that connection, Remus had arrived, a half-finished Transfiguration essay still in hand; then Sirius and James, still in sweaty Quidditch uniforms...

They crowded about Severus on the bed and he closed his eyes, still leaping anxiously from one mind to another, pulling them all closer to him and closer together with a frantic single-mindedness. The bed creaked again as yet another weight settled on it; the other minds gave way and Severus found himself in Dumbledore's arms, clutching his robes and beard as if they were his last link to sanity. He began weaving the lemon flavored dandelion-presence in with the others, clutching them together as tightly as he was gripping the Headmaster's robes. The burn of embarrassment was buried completely, overridden by an overwhelming fear… He would not, could not, be alone in the dark... Never again...

"Welcome back, my boy," Dumbledore whispered in his ear. "Andromeda has some Dreamless Sleep for you, if you could open your mouth..." Severus complied and a thin stream of potion was poured down his throat. He swallowed and fell asleep immediately, reassured by the presence of the seven people who meant more to him then the rest of the world combined.

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Sooo... there was a peek at Sev's childhood for you. Good thing he's got friends now, ain't it? Hope ya'll enjoyed. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Huggbees! 


	37. The Care and Keeping of Severus Snape

**DISCLAIMER:**

Author: Well, we're officially back from a...

Sirius: Never-declared!

Author: ...hiatus. I blame chapter 38. It ties directly to... something... and I didn't want to post it until I knew what I was doing.

Severus: You've never known what you were doing.

James: Of course she does. -cough- Not. -cough- Has she steered us wrong yet?

Remus: Have you even _read_ the last thirty-five chapters?

Author: But updates should progress faster now. Thanks for your patience!

Severus: Patience my a-

**DEDICATION:** Remus J. Lupin. This chapter wasn't originally planned (so many moons ago), but he just wouldn't let it be.

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**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXXVI:**

_**The Care and Keeping of Severus Snape**_

After five and a half days unconscious in the Hospital Wing and four and a half days recuperating, Severus was allowed to return to classes. That was what Andromeda had said. She had not said he was "better," because even Remus—who had only the vaguest concept of Legilimency and was certainly not capable of reading minds—would have known it was a lie.

If Remus had occasionally fretted over the Severus who'd gone into the Hospital Wing, it was nothing compared to how he worried about the Severus who had come out.

This Severus was thinner, frailer, paler, and flinched at every gust of wind. He spent too much time staring into the fire, or the sky, or empty space. He spent his nights as Skittles, curled up on Remus' pillow; during the day he rarely spoke and never smiled. He was snappish even with the other Marauders, and had reduced five first-years to tears in as many days. Though he dutifully took the nutrition potions Andromeda sent him, he ate even less than before. His hands trembled, he seemed constantly tired, and his eyes...

His eyes made Remus want to hug him, call for Dumbledore, and murder Garridan Snape, all at once.

The only good news was that Davey and Frank, after having the situation explained to them, were very considerate about the whole affair. Alice—along with most of Gryffindor house—followed Frank's lead, and gave Severus plenty of space. Or maybe they'd seen the results of his latest row with Sirius, and were just trying to avoid being hexed. Lily, who could not stand to see anyone looking so upset, was actively working with the Marauders as they tried to coax Severus out of whatever darkness he'd retreated to, despite being subjected to a toenail-extending hex and some sort of translation charm that had her speaking in gibberish for three hours.

James—who had been avoiding Severus like nundu's breath ever since an encounter that left him with no fingers and some impressive cleavage—had gone on his knee in the middle of the common room, declared her the bravest Gryffindor of all in a stirring speech that equated bravery to sexiness, and offered to reward her with a kiss. Or seventeen.

She must have managed some sort of conversation with Severus, because soon afterwards James was also sporting elongated toenails.

Yet Remus worried. Severus continued to not-improve, and it had been days, and they were having absolutely no luck whatsoever... But Severus was the least of his problems tonight; tonight was the full moon.

The door to the Shrieking Shack's bedroom creaked open and there Padfoot, Prongs and Skittles stood, framed by the darkness of the landing outside. Remus smiled at them. "You might as well change back; you're ridiculously early." James and Sirius flopped onto the bed beside him, sending tiny clouds of dust through the air; Severus curled up by the pillows and ran a hand wearily over his eyes... and suddenly Remus could not stand it anymore.

"For Merlin's sake, Severus, could you just tell us what's wrong?"

Severus stiffened. "I beg your pardon?"

"You know what I'm talking about. What did you see under Insomemoria that's messed you up so badly?"

Severus didn't remove his hand from his eyes. He wrapped his other arm around himself and didn't say a word.

Sirius leaned forward. "Talking about it helps, Sev—"

"There's _nothing_ to talk about," Severus hissed. "And if you _continue_ to persist in this inane, misguided, impudent—_Gryffindorish_—attempt to—to—" Sirius frowned and moved closer, raised his hand to gesture... His sleeve brushed Severus' and Severus flinched backwards, instantly silent.

Sirius froze. Severus finally lowered his hand and they all stared at each other a moment, Sirius' mouth hanging slightly open.

"Like hell there isn't."

Severus' head drooped and Sirius continued: "When one of my best friends, the absolute bravest person I know, is suddenly scared of _me_..."

"You promised, Sev," James said abruptly. "After the Order meeting, remember? You promised to let us try to help you."

There was a short silence. When Severus spoke it was with a quiet, defeated voice that didn't suit him at all. "I... I—it's nothing. It's really—I'm just having trouble with Occlumency."

"What's that to do with anything?" Sirius asked.

"A _proper_ Occlumency shield—" Severus sniffed, sounding very academic, and Remus watched the tension in his shoulders lessen slightly, "—not the puerile, blatantly obvious construction Greebe has—is not really a shield at all. It's more like the layers of a cake. You put the memories everyone can see on top, then the ones everyone can see although you'd prefer them not to, then the ones only a few people can see... and so forth." He demonstrated with brisk, scientific-looking hand gestures. "A proper Occlumency shield has at least three layers, each of which is protected."

James blinked. "That… sounds complicated. So, knowing you, you've got, what, six layers?"

"Nine. The first four are simply to throw people off track, the next four have the important information... and the last is double-sided, because I don't want to remember any of that unless it's absolutely necessary."

Remus thought he could see where this was going. "But when you took the Insomemoria... it went through them all?"

"It _ripped_ through them like nothing else has ever been able to. Everything's in shreds, tangled up, the good and bad twisted together. Nothing's in the right place and all the things I've kept locked away are out in the open... And I... I don't… I don't know if I can stand to sort them all back out..." Severus shuddered at the thought.

"Do you want us to help?"

They stared at Sirius incredulously.

"I mean, I doubt we could actually do very much, but we could come along. For moral—mental?—support. Hover in the background and whatnot."

"Is that even possible" asked James.

"Is it possible for us to talk in each other's heads? Is it possible that Quintaped puke makes us super-wizards? Is it possible that after fourteen thousand years of trying Prongs finally got a date with Lil—"

"We get the picture," James interrupted, shoving his hand over Sirius' mouth.

Remus turned towards Severus, who seemed to be having an inner struggle with the idea. "That might..." Severus paused a moment, surveying their faces. "That... might be good. It might. Could we do it now, quickly, before I change my mind?"

Remus nodded; Severus tugged at his mind and suddenly he was gone.

_He was Severus Snape and he was laying on his bed staring at the spider crawling up his knee but he couldn't brush it off because he'd been petrified for the last two days and he was so hungry it hurt..._

_He was Severus Snape and he was playing wizard's chess with Albus Dumbledore and he was winning and Fawkes was singing happily in the corner..._

_He was Severus Snape and he was brewing a batch of Amortentia and it was coming along nicely and he was feeling slightly proud of his efforts and enjoying the sweet smell of old books and warm summer days and chocolate which he knew he loved although he'd only ever had one piece..._

_He was Severus Snape and he was being teased by the Gryffindor gang and they'd stolen his Transfiguration homework and glued all his books together and McGonagall had given him detention..._

_He was Severus Snape and he was cleaning the kitchen as fast as he could because he had to be done before Father came home but his arm was broken and it was slowing him down..._

_He was Severus Snape and he was trembling from the Cruciatus and bowing before the Dark Lord..._

_He was Severus Snape and he was in Diagon Alley with Remus and Ted and they were having ice-cream and waiting for the others to leave the Quidditch store..._

_He was Severus Snape and he was seeing the sun for the very first time and was squinting at the brightness and it was wonderful and he wanted to smile but didn't because Father would be furious... _

Then the memories began to blur together, moving too fast for Remus to follow, spinning around him like a vortex of light and dark and all the shades in between. It was either seconds or years later when he opened his eyes and found himself back in the Shrieking Shack, on the dusty duvet, with James and Sirius. Severus' eyes were closed and he appeared to be still lost in memory. They met each others' eyes and nodded, waiting silently, tense with anticipation. Perhaps fifteen minutes later Severus opened his eyes and slowly, tentatively, smiled.

Remus felt himself relax for the first time in two weeks.

"Thank you," Severus whispered, running his fingers along the pillow and not meeting their eyes. "I… It wasn't half as hard as I'd imagined, and I know it didn't take but ten minutes—but still. I... I really didn't want to, and you sort of forced me to, and so... thanks."

"No problem." Sirius grinned and struck a noble pose. "_Sometimes,_" he said in a booming, deep voice, "_we must do things we'd rather not, for the greater good._"

"And I'm sure you'll remember that in our next Potions class," Severus answered dryly.

The next half-hour of conversation was trivial in comparison and mostly consisted of Sirius and Severus ganging up on James to tease him about his upcoming date. James didn't mind at all, both because it was a sign that Severus was definitely on the mend, and because any mention of Lily made him grin like an idiot.

Finally the moon rose, as it always did—bringing with it the agony of transformation, the part of the night Remus did not care to remember. He did remember the hours that followed, in bits and pieces: the thrill of running free beneath the huge, golden moon, the sight of a winged cat circling in loops across the sky as they rounded the lake, the fun of wrestling with his pack-brother Padfoot, the reflection in the cool lake waters of a stag, tall and noble...

And then he was lying on the dusty bed and Severus was pressing a bar of chocolate into his hand. "Eat." Remus obeyed as he sat up—exhausted and sore—to survey the extraordinary scene before him.

Someone had conjured up a tiny fire, which was floating just over the center of the bed. Sirius was fiddling with an elaborate silver tea service; James was whistling and toasting toast over the flames. "What kind of jam do you like, Sev?"

"Strawberry, please—and cream but no sugar in the tea."

"Righto," Sirius said, passing him a cup. "Don't forget to stick your pinky finger out when you drink; it makes you look more dignified."

"You sound like Nymphadora," Remus murmured.

"Everything she knows she learned from me," Sirius said proudly. "Here's yours, Moony—cream and a disgusting amount of sugar, correct?"

Remus nodded and accepted the cup; he took a long drink and was startled by how much better he felt. "Did you add anything besides cream and sugar, Padfoot?"

"Just a painkiller I nicked from Andromeda—it's the one she normally gives you anyway, so no harm done. Grape or strawberry jam?"

There was more than enough tea and toast and chocolate to go around. Remus eventually learned that it had been Sirius' idea—_who else would come up with something so wonderfully bizarre, after all?_—and he found himself feeling far more comfortable than he normally did after a transformation: sipping his tea, leaning on the pillows beside Severus and listening to Sirius sing—poorly—an odd song he'd learned from Hagrid about some bloke named Odo...

The door opened just as Sirius finished the seventh verse; Andromeda and McGonagall stared at them in something akin to shock.

James grinned cheekily and held up the teapot. "Care for a cuppa?"

* * *

Hope ya'll enjoyed the chapter! Please share your thoughts, critiques, cash and/or credit cards (if you're muggle. If not, contact via. Stinknose at Gringotts). 


	38. Not Quite the Way It Happens in Fairy

**DISCLAIMER:** Insert scathingly witty disclaimer here. Maybe a random quote or reference to Monty Python.

**DEDICATION:** Thanks everyone who has read and/or commented! I'm happy ya'll are enjoying this. So, without further ado...

Sirius: Ado? A-dooo? A doe?

Nymphadora: A deer! A female deer--

James: WHERE?

Severus: -sigh-

Remus: ...here's the chapter!

* * *

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXXVII:**

_**Not Quite the Way It Happens in Fairy Tales**_

"Are you sure this shirt matches my socks?—and what about my hair? Does it look okay? Is there anything on my face? In my teeth? Do you think she forgot? I really hope she didn't... but she's a little late—oh, no, we're early. Do you think she'll mind? Do you think we should eat in the Three Broomsticks or Madam Puddifoot's? Does my hair look—"

"_Silencio._"

_SEVERUS! You take that off me right this instant or—_

"Hello, Lily," Remus said calmly as Evans joined them in the Entrance Hall.

"Hi, everybody! Hi, James." James, of course, did not say anything, but glared ferociously at Severus. Evans frowned. "Aren't you going to say hello?"

"He can't," Severus informed her. "I put a Silencing Charm on him."

"Oh?" Evans' eyes sparkled mischievously. "Whatever for?"

"He is completely enamored with you and is overly worried about making a good first impression, despite the fact that you've known each other for five years. Therefore he was babbling like a nervous idiot and I thought perhaps he should take a few minutes to calm himself."

James blushed scarlet and glared even more ferociously at Severus, but Evans laughed. "You know... that's kind of sweet." She smiled at James, grabbed his hand and led him through the giant double doors on the path towards Hogsmeade.

Sirius laughed. "Well, that broke the ice. I swear, I will never understand women if I live to be as old as Dumbledore."

"You really want to think about Dumbledore and women?" Severus turned to see Ted smiling mischievously, standing right behind them with Nymphadora and Andromeda.

Sirius covered his ears with his hands. "Bad mental images, bad mental images..."

"Are you coming to Hogsmeade too?" Severus asked.

"Yes. In fact, we're tailing you," Andromeda said. "Dumbledore's orders."

"But we're being very discrete about it, so you won't realize what we're up to," Ted added with a wink.

"We're secret agents," Nymphadora said proudly. "So don't notice we're following you, okay?"

* * *

Hogsmeade was, Severus decided, a far better place to go with friends than by one's self. So far they'd stopped at Scrivenshaft's—where Remus bought a new quill and Sirius flustered the poor manager by asking to see every quill in the store before declaring he was just looking anyway—and then they'd poked around Dervish and Banges for a bit, until they'd accidentally knocked over a display of Remembralls and been chased out; afterwards they had spent a few minutes in the post office so Nymphadora could stare in wonder at the rows and rows of delivery owls. Just a few minutes ago they'd been in Honeydukes, where the Marauders had bought a wide variety of sweets and Ted had treated them all to an enormous slab of rich dark chocolate, which they were now sharing as they walked down High Street.

"You know, for supposedly inconspicuous secret agents, you sure are interacting with us a lot," Sirius said, breaking off another piece of chocolate and passing it to Severus.

"Rubbish," Andromeda denied. "Oh, there's Gladrags—do you three mind if we pop in for a moment? Nymphadora's outgrown her shoes."

Nymphadora's new shoes, Ted's new cloak, and an incredibly gaudy scarf Sirius insisted they get for James later, Severus followed the others through the door of Zonko's Joke Shop. The chime over the door turned the manager's head; he, unlike all the other store proprietors they'd encountered so far, was very glad to see them. He appeared to be on a first-name basis with Sirius, who came right up to him and started inquiring about discounts for buying large volumes of Dungbombs.

Severus decided he didn't want to know. He browsed the aisles casually, examining a display of miniature monkey figurines that were guaranteed to be "even more irritating than flies and insult your enemies in seven languages!" There were quills that squirted you with ink when you tried to use them, and peppermints that would turn your ears purple—and of course the classic nose-biting teacups and screaming yo-yos. He found Nymphadora engrossed in a small display at the back of the store, featuring perpetual-bounce balls that never lost their momentum but would continue ricocheting off the floor, ceiling, walls and furniture "until caught or the end of time," according to the advertisement. Severus thought that was clever and—after making sure Andromeda was looking away—bought one for Nymphadora. Ted, he noticed with a grin, also checked to see the coast was clear before making his purchase; Sirius was busy making arrangements to have what appeared to be an unprecedented number of Dungbombs and Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks delivered to the school.

Eventually Severus and Remus had to drag him through the door, still shouting: "—and two-dozen more of the red than green!"

By now it was lunchtime, so they dropped in at the Three Broomsticks and were soon joined by Evans—who looked happy—and James, who looked as though he had just won three billion galleons, been made Supreme Ruler of the World, and discovered he was the most powerful wizard since Merlin himself.

Severus suspected this had something to do with the fact that they were still holding hands.

"Well, you two look as pleased as flobberworms in a lettuce factory. What's up?" Sirius asked.

"Um, well..." Evans smiled at James again and he melted under her gaze, eyes filled with an adoration that was either comical or disgusting—Severus couldn't decide. "James asked me out."

"Lily," Remus pointed out, "he's asked you out every week since second year."

"Yeah, but this time she said yes!"

Sirius began having a coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like barely suppressed laughter. Remus smiled and Nymphadora sighed happily. "It's so _romantic..._ Now you have to kiss her, James, and then you go get married!"

Sirius fell under the table laughing.

"That's the way it happens in fairy tales," Nymphadora insisted. "You've got to kiss her and save her from the wicked spell—"

"I'm not under a wicked spell," Evans said quickly. She and James were both blushing again.

"Then get someone to be the bad guy and put you under an evil, evil spell like _Alomohera_ and lock you in the Astronomy tower—Daddy could do it! Daddy, you be the bad guy—"

"Somehow I doubt your mother would approve. What about a toast instead?" Ted suggested. "To the happy couple." Everyone but Sirius, who was still convulsing from laughter beneath the tablecloth, clicked their tankards of foaming butterbeer together. Just then Rosmerta appeared with their food, a tray laden with sandwiches and pork chops and shepherd's pie.

"I still have trouble believing you're not under an evil spell," Sirius said a few moments later, busily stuffing his face. "Why else would you want to go out with Ickle-Jamsie?"

James beat him over the head with his napkin.

"All of you have been better this year," Evans answered seriously. "I think Severus is a good influence."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Something else I've never been called before."

"He's certainly better than Sirius," Andromeda agreed, glaring at Nymphadora, who was blowing super-sized bubbles in her milk.

"Why, Madam Tonks! I am wounded!" Sirius pretended to stab himself with a fork and collapsed on Remus' shoulder. "Save me, Moony—I die of heartache!"

* * *

After finishing lunch, getting thrown out of three more shops, helping Ted select a large supply of potions ingredients to purchase, and convincing Nymphadora that the Hog's Head was _not_ a good place to play hide-and-seek, Severus was quite tired and glad they were heading back up to the castle. Nymphadora was dragging him along by his left hand, pointing out every single bird that passed overhead in the late afternoon sky; the other Marauders and Evans were on his right, and Ted and Andromeda were walking behind them.

Sirius and Evans—_Lily, I suppose I should call her now_—were arguing about whether the Chudley Cannons were going to win a game that year when Severus felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He threw himself to the ground, pulling Nymphadora to his side; a bolt of light shot through the air above his head and sliced a hole through Ted's new cloak.

"What the—"

Ted raised his wand and shouted: "_Accio Invisibility Cloaks!_" A dozen bundles of silver rushed towards them from the now-visible Death Eaters encircling the path. They raised their wands and began to attack.

Andromeda swore and put up a Shield Charm, which Remus and Lily quickly reinforced; Sirius and James started firing off stunners and Ted bellowed, "_Expecto patronum!_" A silver tiger leapt from his wand and ran up towards the school. Severus jumped to his feet, ordered Nymphadora to stay low, and started exchanging curses with the masked figures he could identify by height and build.

Dolohov hit Andromeda with the Cruciatus. She screamed and the shield collapsed.

"_RUN!_" Ted shouted, firing off a Blasting Curse that knocked two of the Death Eaters from their feet. Severus started sprinting towards the gap they'd made, the gap that faced the Forbidden Forest. As he'd expected, the Death Eaters ran after him, did not stay to curse Nymphadora or Andromeda; Severus ran with Lily and the other Marauders into the Forbidden Forest.

"_CRUCIO!_"

James screamed; Lily whirled about and fired a Carnivorous Mold hex at Mulciber, who screamed and clutched at his face. Severus yanked James to his feet and they continued running. Sirius and Remus were nowhere in sight. From a far distance he heard the words "_AVADA KE—_", then the shout: "HOLD YOUR FIRE! THAT COULD BE SNAPE AND THE DARK LORD WANTS HIM ALIVE, IDIOT!"

Severus continued to run blindly through the forest; the branches scraped at his arms and the roots tripped his feet. He could hear Lily and James panting beside him and the Death Eaters crashing through the forest after them... And perhaps Ted and Andromeda, running behind _them_...

"_IMPEDIMENTIA!_"

Severus dodged the spell, stuck his wand over his shoulder and hissed: "_Perdo audiconspectus!_" Shouts of confusion came from the Death Eaters; Bellatrix had abruptly stopped, tripping up half the group. Now she was unable to hear or see anything... _And that's not a spell they'll be able to take off in a minute._

But the others were still coming.

"_Crucio! Impedimenta! Sectumsempra!_"

The last curse ripped the hem of Severus' cloak, but most of the Death Eaters were still too far away to aim properly. _It'd have to be a bloody lucky shot..._

"_REDUCTO!_"

Dolohov's curse hit James right in the back, throwing him nearly ten feet forward; he hit the ground hard but pulled himself up and started firing stunners at the Death Eaters. Severus had nearly reached him when the world dropped out from under his feet.

He was falling, rolling, sliding uncontrollably down a tiny dark tunnel full of rocks and cobwebs; he could hear Lily falling behind him; they tumbled together in the darkness for what felt like ages, bumped and bruised by the rocky tunnel walls. Severus tried to grab hold of them, tried to stop falling... but the tunnel was lined with some nasty, gooey slime that slipped right through his fingers.

And then his fall was broken by a pile of something soft and springy. A second later Lily fell on top of him.

"_Oomph._ Sorry Sever—"

"_Shhh,_" he hissed. Severus had dropped his wand on impact; he tried to sit up and feel about for it—but he couldn't move, couldn't move any part of him touching the soft, springy substance that had cushioned their landing.

"Severus?" Lily whispered. "I'm stuck."

"Me too. Have your wand?"

"No, it's in my jeans pocket and I can't move my arms..."

Severus bit back a curse and tried to analyze the situation. He was sprawled spread-eagle on the ground, all four limbs trapped by the stickiness; Lily was laying across him, her back on his stomach, forming a giant X and making it rather difficult for him to breathe.

"Is there any part of you that isn't stuck?"

"Besides my back? No."

"Can you roll over? Can you roll towards my head, and I'll try to grab your wand?"

"That's ludicrous enough to actually work. Just a sec..."

He felt Lily wriggling and pulling against whatever was restraining them. Her wrist brushed his hand and he grabbed a fistful of her sleeve, trying to help pull her towards him. As they struggled the sticky substance revealed its elastic properties, letting Lily roll _just... a bit... more..._

Severus just managed to pull the wand from her pocket. "_Lumos_."

A beam of light flickered into existence, shooting directly up into the darkness of wherever they were. Severus glanced about; they were in another tunnel, a large one, and they were laying on a bundle of leaves covered with...

"Spider webs," Lily moaned. "I _hate_ spiders... I absolutely hate them..."

After some more fiddling with the wand, Severus managed to cut Lily free. She pulled the wand from his hand and released him almost immediately; he rummaged through the leaves for his wand and found it seconds later at the edge of the pile.

"_Lumos._"

Now with twice the light, they started walking down the larger tunnel. They passed side entrances with increasing regularity; Severus glanced into them and saw they led to tiny chambers identical to the one that had trapped them before. The entire place had the feel of an elaborately, if primitively, constructed _trap..._

They reached the end of the tunnel and peered out into a huge hollow. It was filled to overwhelming with giant, sleeping spiders. Lily shuddered in horror; Severus glanced nervously at the sky through the huge, dome shaped web strung about the trees. Twilight had fallen... and Acromantulas were nocturnal.

"Come on," he whispered. "We have to get out of here before one wakes up..."

"You are rather late for that," said a deep voice. The words were punctuated by a clicking sound.

Severus turned about slowly to face the largest Acromantula of them all—a monstrous beast at least twelve feet high, with long, hairy legs and muddy-white eyes; it was blind. Lily quivered at his side as the clicking sound of its jaws echoed through the clearing, then returned, a thousand times louder than before.

The Acromantulas were awake. They were clicking, and they were speaking: "Aragog! Aragog!"

The giant spider clicked again, and the hollow fell silent—excepting the furious beating of Severus' heart, and Lily's, which he could feel because she'd backed up right next to him, as far from the spiders as she could.

"Welcome to our forest, strangers. Now, good-bye."

"Wait!" Severus shouted, because it was the only thing he could think to do.

"Why wait? You trespass in our forest, human—you are our food."

"Because... Because… if you don't eat us, I'll tell you where you can find twelve more people in the forest, twice as big as we are."

"Foolish. Do you think our knowledge of the forest is not greater than yours?"

The clicking began again as the spiders edged closer.

"W-We didn't mean to trespass," Lily stammered. "We were being chased, by Death Eaters—"

"Death Eaters?" the spider said in tones of amusement as the others stepped even closer. "Who eats death but the creatures of the night?"

"That's what they call themselves," Severus continued frantically. "The servants of the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, Tom Riddle—"

The giant spider clashed its jaws together and the hollow was silent once more.

"_Tom Riddle_," it clicked angrily. "Riddle, the same foul fiend who framed my good friend Hagrid so many years ago?"

"Yes," Severus agreed, though he had no idea what the spider was speaking about.

"_Riddle..._ And he is chasing you. Why?"

Severus choose his words carefully. "I was a spy for those fighting against him. He wants me back because of a power I hold that could help him take over the world."

The Acromantula considered this for a moment. "Come into my den, Spy-against-Riddle, and bring your female. We shall speak more of this... _Riddle._"

* * *

A twist! A cliffhanger! And thus begins one of my favorite arcs in the story! Thanks for reading, and please take a moment to comment, critique, criticize, cheer, complain, condemn, cherish, categorize, or otherwise respond.

And if you're bored after that, you can check out the beginnings of a new fic I'm posting. It's a series of humorous oneshots with no point whatsoever. The best kind.


	39. Conversations with Aragog, Chief of the

**DISCLAIMER: **JK Rowling's lawyers ate my disclaimer.

**DEDICATION: **Everyone still with me after that horrid wait. Sorry, ya'll. This has been a hard semester. Classes racked up a lot and I was worried about my scholarship. I did pretty well in the end, but then my grandpa was in the hospital, and he didn't make it. That was rough on us all, even though we've known this was coming for like a year. And then I was abroad with no internet. And I couldn't load this chapter till I figured out how to work the stupid ending, 'cause they're connected. Yeah. Still, no excuse, I'm going to try to finish up this story in the next few weeks. I don't want to leave ya'll hanging again; it's not constructive or fair for anyone. So wish me luck with that ending! ;)

Now that we're all thoroughly depressed, on with one of my favorite chapters ever! w00t!

* * *

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXXVIII **

_**Conversations with Aragog, Chief of the Acromantulas**_

"So Riddle wishes to rule over everything, even the forest? That must never happen."

"No, it mustn't," Severus agreed. He was being careful to do a lot of agreeing. Lily stood, still shaking slightly, at his side; they had politely refused to take a seat on the web-covered floor of Aragog's den. Aragog—the giant chief of the Acromantulas—was reclining on web-strung wall, one of his great hairy legs only inches from Severus' shoe.

"And Riddle sent his servants into the forest to capture you. Why?"

"As I said, I have the... key to unlocking a power he desires. An evil power."

"You do not wish to speak of it plainly," Aragog hissed. "But I can sense it on you. In your smell. You are not like the others, and this evil power you speak of... it is not of this world."

"No, it isn't."

"It must not be unleashed."

"No, it mustn't."

Aragog was silent for a moment. Severus stared at his creepy white eyes.

"Killing you would prevent that."

Lily shuddered. Severus, who had half-anticipated this question, had an answer. "But it would anger those fighting Riddle. It would dishearten them. And should Riddle find another way to unleash this power, I would not there to stop him."

"That is true." Aragog clicked his jaws. "You are a good ally then, Spy-against-Riddle. And the female—she is your mate?"

"Um, no. We're a bit young for that yet."

Aragog clicked once more, this time in surprise; he lifted one huge, hairy leg and moved it slowly through the air towards Severus. Lily darted backwards; Severus held his breath and thought very hard about not screaming. The leg prodded his feet, moved gently up his legs and arms and then touched his chin... his nose—Severus' eyes were closed now and he was trying not to tremble—then rested on the top of his head.

"You are small, and you are young," Aragog agreed. "Just a spiderling. You have seen much, Spy-against-Riddle, for one of your stature." He withdrew his leg and Severus released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Aragog clicked three times and another Acromantula, nearly as large, appeared at the entrance to the den. "My mate, Morag."

Severus bowed towards the newcomer, deciding an excess of politeness was far better than a deficiency. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madam." Lily, following his lead, dropped a quick curtsy and edged up to stand next to him once more.

"Morag and I will escort you back to your castle, Spy-against-Riddle," Aragog announced. "Along with two of our finest warriors. Come."

And so they followed the ancient, giant chief of the Acromantulas out of his den and across the hollow. Behind them came Morag, and behind her two more spiders with far less intelligence and far more hunger in their eyes. Their procession into the forest was accompanied by an infinite number of click, click, clicks as the Acromantulas hailed their leader.

"Walk beside me, Spy-against-Riddle," Aragog said a few minutes later as the spiders crept through the forest, silent but immense, their legs pushing against the trees as often as the ground. "I wish to question you further about Riddle's plans."

Severus, inclined to obey, hurried forward, Lily still at his side.

"Hagrid has told me that other creatures of the night have joined Riddle," Aragog continued. "The werewolves, the giants. The vampires and hags."

"Yes, unfortunately—"

"And the dementors. They lust for joy, to turn it to despair... They will have joined Riddle."

Severus shuddered, remembering the Insomemoria and his brief stay in Azkaban. "Yes. They have joined."

Aragog clicked his jaws unhappily. "That is not good. You humans are too arrogant to seek out allies. You do not offer them the freedoms Riddle does... What of the goblins?"

"The goblins have not joined. Some are neutral, some are on our side; Riddle murdered a goblin family a year ago, near Nottingham, and many vowed revenge."

"Ahh... And the centaurs? But the centaurs care only for their herd and their stars," Aragog answered himself. "That is how it has been—" Aragog and the other spiders stopped abruptly. "There are humans ahead," he hissed. "Humans not of the castle."

Severus peered ahead but could see nothing through the dense foliage.

"What would you do, Spy-against-Riddle?"

Severus blinked. Aragog was asking _him?_ _For advice? Or just to hear my opinion? Or is it a test..._

"I'd sneak close enough to listen, to watch. To learn," Severus replied.

"Then that is what we shall do. But you cannot sneak; you are a clumsy, loud human. You shall come with me and Morag shall take the female who is not your mate." Before Severus had time to comprehend that sentence he felt Aragog's massive, long, hairy legs on him once more; they encircled his waist and pulled him into the air, right beneath a pair of sharp, black pincers.

Aragog slid upwards into the trees quickly, silently, and Severus would have appreciated his stealth but for the fact that he was fifty feet above the ground in the legs of a giant spider who seemed to have no qualms about killing people. A minute later Aragog stopped, hanging upside-down high above a small clearing in the forest. Aragog flipped Severus about as if he weighed less than a quill; suddenly he was dangling from two hairy spider legs that curved around his middle, letting his arms and legs hang limp. It was not at all comfortable, but he did have an excellent view of the proceedings below...

The Death Eaters were there, gathered in a rough circle about the clearing. Bellatrix, by the looks of it, was still blind and deaf, though her cursing was clearly audible. One Death Eater wasn't wearing a mask. He was pacing the circle restlessly, snapping at the others, obviously the leader; and Severus imagined that, even from fifty feet away, he could still smell the Firewhisky on his father's breath.

"Pettigrew!" Garridan snapped. "Where _is_ he?"

A smaller, rounder figure stepped forward. "I... I... He said he'd be here, sir..."

Another mask-less figure stumbled into the clearing; he had a pale face with thick eyebrows, a face Severus recognized—_Greebe._ "Garridan? You wanted me—"

Garridan snapped his wand out and ropes sprung from nowhere, binding Greebe and tripping him so that he fell face-first in the dirt. "Pettigrew told me what happened, you pathetic excuse for a servant of the Dark Lord," he spat, kicking Greebe in the face. "_You_—_let—them—go._"

"It wasn't him! It was just Black and Lupin, they aren't the one Master wants! I thought it would help deceive Dumbledore—"

"You bloody _fool!_" Garridan shouted. "That double-damned brat is _friends _with them, we could have used them as bait! _CRUCIO!_"

Greebe's screams echoed through the clearing and Severus shuddered, feeling a twinge of guilt for being so critical of the man who had apparently saved Remus and Sirius' lives.

Garridan stopped the curse and started pacing in circles around Greebe, eying him hungrily the way a hag eyes a two-year-old Muggle. "You are _worthless,_ you know that? Everything worthwhile has been _my_ idea—my Insomemoria to cripple the brat, my ambush tonight to capture him... All you've done is foul up the latter and organize a bunch of kids for an unbelievably useless attack that put that bloody Headmaster on his guard! I doubt you even care about fulfilling the Dark Lord's desires—you're just a fool who wants two hundred thousand galleons, isn't that right? _ISN'T IT!?_"

"N-No..."

"I would kill you now," Garridan spat, "but the Dark Lord might want that pleasure for himself." He turned to face the others, one foot stepping contemptuously on Greebe's bound form. "We will leave now, and we will take this pathetic traitor with us. He has botched enough of our mission tonight—I wouldn't be surprised if he was working for Dumbledore after all."

Greebe moaned pitifully and another twang of pity raced through Severus' veins; he wondered if there was anything he could do... but he was the target, after all, and they were outnumbered fifteen to four, even if two of them were Acromantulas. _Assuming they'd even help..._

"Pettigrew!" Garridan snapped. "You will not return to the school, either—the two that _got away,_" he snarled at Greebe, "saw you and they know your Animagus form. The others in the school can fend for themselves. Let's go."

Two of the Death Eaters rushed forward to grab Greebe; a second later Severus heard the pops of Disapparation and the clearing was empty. Aragog shifted Severus in his legs once again and began to climb around the clearing towards Hogwarts, which was just visible over the tops of the trees in the distance.

"You heard, Spy-against-Riddle. You heard and you saw. What did you learn?"

"I learned," Severus said quietly, "that my friends escaped. I learned Pettigrew has been in the castle, and that multiple Death Eaters are still there. And I learned that the man who was bound—Adalbert Greebe—has been caught. He was a spy against Riddle, as well..."

"But not anymore. He failed. Riddle will kill him."

"Yes."

Aragog was quiet for several minutes. They were within easy sight of the castle when he spoke. "The venomous one resembles you, Spy-against-Riddle— both in smell and voice. Your sire?"

"Yes. But... not by choice."

"Everything in life is by choice. Perhaps not your choice, but someone's. But there is no time for philosophy now, Spy-against-Riddle. We are here."

Aragog lowered Severus to the ground as they reached the boundary of the Forbidden Forest. Severus stood up, happy to be back on his own two feet, and led the way to the very edge of the trees. Morag soon joined them, with Lily—who looked distressed, but whether from the ride or what had taken place in the clearing or both, Severus could not tell. He glanced at the sky; it was quite late, probably midnight, and he heard search parties shouting his and Lily's names across the grounds.

"Thank you, Aragog, Morag. I am in your debt." Severus bowed again to the huge Acromantulas, who looked sinister yet slightly noble, standing in the shadows at the edge of the forest that was their domain.

"I believe I must thank you as well, Spy-against-Riddle. You have alerted me to the danger threatening my family and our beloved forest, and you have allowed me some small revenge against Riddle for all he did to my friend Hagrid."

"I am honored by your words."

Aragog raised his long, hairy foreleg and placed it once more on Severus' head. "I believe I like you, Spy-against-Riddle. You fight the evil that threatens our Forest, and you are wiser than most of your species—particularly for a spiderling. I believe I shall call you a friend, Friend-of-Aragog-and-Spy-against-Riddle. You shall not fear me or my children when you walk through our forest, and we will come to your aid against Riddle should you call us."

"Thank you."

"I shall leave now," Aragog announced. "The adults of the castle have come. You and the female who is not your mate are safe. Remember my words, Friend-of-Aragog-and-Spy-against-Riddle."

Aragog and Morag disappeared into the Forest within seconds—the largest, most silent creatures imaginable. Severus turned around and saw McGonagall, Ted and Mr. Potter staring at him, mouths open but apparently unable to say a word.

* * *

Ted's hand had a firm but comfortable grip on Severus' shoulder as they, along with Lily, McGonagall and Mr. Potter, hurried through the castle to Dumbledore's quarters.

"Fizzing Whizbee," McGonagall snapped. The gargoyle leapt aside and they ascended the spiraling staircase; they reached the landing, opened the door and were immediately mobbed by a crowd of anxious people.

Severus saw a man with Lily's eyes and a woman with her hair jump forward, the woman sobbing with relief as they hugged her. He caught a glimpse of Sirius and Remus behind them, blood on their robes; Sirius grinned cheekily at him and mouthed "we knew you'd be fine." James seemed unable to decide who to comfort first; Lily was preoccupied with her parents and Severus' vision was suddenly blocked by a mass of blue robes that wrapped around him tightly and refused to let go.

"I am _never_ letting you out of my sight again!" said Andromeda's voice from directly above his head. "Death Eaters _and_ the Forbidden Forest—Merlin, I was so worried. Don't you _ever_ scare me like that again—"

It took at least five minutes for Severus to convince her he was fine and she could let go. By that time the atmosphere had calmed; Severus looked towards Dumbledore's desk and saw him sitting there, smiling, his eyes twinkling with relief and something else Severus did not recognize.

"So what happened?" Severus asked.

"Prongs got away," Remus began, "and so did Padfoot, but you know I can't hide as easily." Severus nodded, understanding the allusion. "So one of them caught me, and Sirius came to help, but then Wormtail appeared and got him with a Leg-Locker Curse. So we thought we were dead, but Greebe showed up, stunned the two Death Eaters and sent us back to the castle. We ran into Mr. Potter and Moody on the way and they brought us here, and Prongs was already here, and the Tonks family had three petrified Death Eaters who are somewhere else now. And then everyone started worrying about you two."

"And now _we_ need an explanation," Mr. Potter said. "Especially for that last bit—I've never seen anything so creepy in my life..."

"Why? What happened?" demanded Andromeda and Lily's mum simultaneously.

"We saw them on the edge of the Forbidden Forest," Ted said, "and we're running up and suddenly there's these _huge _Acromantulas and one's got its legs all over Severus and I would have sworn they were about to be eaten—"

"They did want to eat us!" Lily exclaimed. "They were going to eat us, the big ugly king of them said so, but then Severus made _friends_ with him!"

Everyone started staring at Severus again. He was about to explain that they weren't friends, exactly, but Lily continued: "It was so creepy! I'm just standing there, scared to death and there's hundreds of giant, huge spiders all around and the big one is telling us all about how they're going to eat us, and then Severus just starts _talking_ to it! And they're having this long, polite conversation about You-Know-Who and all this stuff and the spider still wants to eat us, and Severus just explains calmly that that's a bad idea—and the spider _agreed_ withhim! And then it started feeling him with his great hairy legs to see how tall he was, and then the next thing I know it said it was going to escort us back to the castle with his wife. So we're walking through the forest with these silent, creepy spiders and Severus and the king Aragog are still talking—until the spiders smell the Death Eaters and Aragog asked Severus what to do and Severus told it to sneak up on them, so then they pick us up with their huge, hairy, nasty legs and start climbing through the trees about sixty feet high and _that_ was about the scariest thing that's ever happened to me—and we saw the Death Eaters, and Professor Greebe..."

"Greebe is dead," Severus interjected. "And Pettigrew has been in the castle, as a rat. He's the third Death Eater who attacked me last month."

"Dead at whose hand?" Dumbledore asked.

"Perhaps I should say 'as good as dead,'" Severus said. "Fa—Garridan's convinced he's a spy, because he let Sirius and Remus go. And he was leading the attack, so his word will carry a good deal of weight with the Dark Lord..."

"I thought he was in disgrace after the Diagon Alley incident," Dumbledore said softly. "He led the attack?"

"Yes, he said it was his idea, along with the Insomemoria—" Andromeda's face darkened in fury. "—and he confirmed there are multiple Death Eaters still in the school—"

"Wait a minute... you lot _knew_ Professor Greebe was a Death Eater?" Lily asked.

"He is a spy," Dumbledore replied. "My spy against Voldemort, and supposedly his spy against me."

"A spy?" repeated Lily's father. "You're letting secret agents into this school? Headmaster, I know you're concerned for the safety of your students, but _this_—my daughter was almost killed tonight! And she's told me about other attacks on students... I do _not_ want a repeat of this incident!" he snapped.

"That's very easily arranged," Severus said dryly. "Just order her to stay as far away from me as possible."

"Who are you then?" scoffed a girl sitting in the far corner of the room. She was thin and tall, with dirty-blonde hair, and seemed to have a scowl permanently attached to her face. "_Another _secret agent? Give me a break."

"Actually," Severus drawled, "you're quite right. But I am retired now, and I am far, far more dangerous."

These words had the desired effect: the girl froze in shock, scared and thoroughly intimidated; Severus could not keep a smirk off his face.

"It's fine, Dad," said Lily. "Now, as I was saying, we saw all this about fifty feet up in the trees, and then the spiders carried us the rest of the way to the forest's edge, and then Aragog's going on and on about how he likes Severus so much and he won't let the other spiders eat him and they'll help fight against You-Know-Who—"

"You convinced the Acromantulas to fight against You-Know-Who?" Moody interrupted.

"Well... I convinced Aragog. He doesn't like the Dark Lord very much, he said something about Hagrid..." Severus looked at Dumbledore and saw an unexpected sadness in his eyes.

"Yes. Voldemort framed Hagrid for a crime many years ago... Hagrid raised Aragog as a pet, and Voldemort blamed them for the death of a girl. Aragog was innocent, of course, but no one knew—and Hagrid was expelled." Dumbledore sighed. "But it is one o'clock in the morning and there is little left to say. Minerva, Andromeda, Ted: if you would please escort Severus and his housemates to their common room. Lily, your family is more than welcome to walk with you as well; Professor McGonagall will see that they get home safely afterwards."

The procession down the Headmaster's stairs and into the corridors was unnaturally quiet. Finally the tall man with Lily's eyes approached Severus, arm extended. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm Joseph Evans, Lily's father. This is my wife, Miranda Evans, and our eldest daughter, Petunia. I'd like to thank you for—for whatever you did, that saved Lily's life."

"Oh. Um, you're welcome," Severus said, feeling awkward as he quickly shook the man's hand.

"You three already know Professor McGonagall," Lily cut in as they continued up the stairs. "And I've told you about Sirius, and Remus, and James—"

"And you must be Severus' parents!" Mr. Evans said enthusiastically. "It's an absolute pleasure to meet you..."

There was a very awkward silence. Severus' mind wandered to thoughts of his father in the clearing, boasting about how he'd given the "double-damned brat" Insomemoria... _How I wish._

"Er, I'm the Potions master, Ted Tonks," Ted corrected him gently. "My wife Andromeda is currently standing in for the school's Mediwitch..."

"Oh! I do apologize, it just—"

"No harm done, no harm..." Ted trailed off. Severus looked up and found that they'd reached the Fat Lady, who looked cross at being woken but didn't dare argue with McGonagall.

"Archipelago," stated their Head of House. Lily turned to give her parents one last hug good-bye; her father was still watching Severus, something between concern and curiosity in his eyes.

That didn't stop Andromeda from enveloping him in another hug. "You get some sleep, promise?" she whispered in his ear. Severus nodded; Ted squeezed his shoulder and then they were alone in the empty darkness of the common room. Lily kissed James goodnight and disappeared up the stairs to the girl's dormitories. After pulling on their pajamas the Marauders gathered on Severus' bed, the others demanding a more detailed account of what had happened. He obliged; soon they were discussing what Garridan was up to and whether Greebe was really dead...

"It's two in the morning and I'm going to sleep," Severus interrupted. "We'll find out about Greebe soon enough, one way or the other."

* * *

Liked it? Hated it? Let me know! Hope ya'll enjoyed.

* * *


	40. The New Defense Against the Dark Arts

**UPDATE July 14, 2008: Please see bottom for Author's Note!**

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter. Or any of the following cameos.

Remus: Cameos? What cam-

Sirius: It was James' idea.

Severus: The wait was getting ridiculous, so we called for backup.

Eppy the House Elf: That is being us, Mr. Future Father Figure to greatest and most wonderfuls master, sir.

Chuck Norris: You don't update Chuck Norris. Chuck Norris updates _you_.

Darth Vader: Or elssssse.

Author: whimper, scream, etc.

Remus: Oh Merlin, what are they--

James: I'm taking pictures.

DEDICATION: I'm feeling generous, so I'm dedicating this chapter to everybody. I hope you enjoy a new chapter... there are a few OotP parallels the next chapter or so... you might notice... some... familiar faces... ha ha, I'm evil.

* * *

**It Falls to the Young Chapter XXXIX:**

_**The New Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor**_

* * *

**Hogwart's Defense Professor a Death Eater, Found Dead at Ministry**

_The Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has all the wizarding parents in Britain to answer to today, __writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. The lifeless body of Adalbert Greebe, ex-Auror and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts, was found this morning in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Even more shocking was the discovery of the Dark Mark on Greebe's left forearm, identifying him as one of You-Know-Who's followers. The details surrounding Greebe's death remain unclear, though the Dark Mark hanging over his head suggests that he was murdered on You-Know-Who's orders._

_It is not yet clear whether Albus Dumbledore knew of his Defense Professor's allegiances. Some at the Ministry, however, have suggested that he was willing to endanger his students in exchange for whatever information he could somehow extract from Greebe. "I just don't know what Dumbledore was thinking," said one tearful mother. "Letting a monster like that teach our children..." _

_It is ironic, indeed, that our children have apparently spent the last fifty days studying Defense Against the Dark Arts from a professor who may very well have __used the Dark Arts. But those in the Ministry aren't laughing. "We've always worked closely with Dumbledore," said Auror Rufus Scrimgeour. "He's a good man, but I suspect his age has begun to effect his judgment. Hiring Greebe was a mistake—a potentially deadly mistake—and he has brought other dangerous persons into the school as well." Head Auror Alastor Moody had a different opinion: "You're a bunch of bumbling idiots who don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about. Don't question Dumbledore; he knows exactly what he's doing."_

_But does he? The __Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal that Greebe is not the only controversial wizard who has been residing at Hogwarts. Severus Snape, a fifth year Slytherin-turned-Gryffindor (see page 14A for a brief explanation and history of resortings), was, as Dumbledore announced to his frightened and bewildered students during the school's Welcoming Feast, a Death Eater, and a spy against You-Know-Who. _

_"Snape? He was the best ruddy informant we've ever had," said an Auror who did not wish to be identified. "He brought back more information in a week than the rest of our intelligence network in a year." But is a turncoat ever truly trustworthy? Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, doesn't think so. "The Minister herself has argued with Dumbledore about this," said Crouch. "A school filled with our precious and vulnerable children is no place to keep someone so dangerous. Snape has been the target of at least two Death Eater attacks since the school year started, he's putting the other children in danger—and that's not to mention the danger hehimself poses; he's a Death Eater, after all, and may be mentally unstable and prone to violence." Eyewitnesses have reported seeing Snape during the Diagon Alley raid last summer, as well—yet another unsolved question that leads those at the __Daily Prophet to question Snape's loyalties._

Severus dropped the paper to the table and sighed.

"Gone a bit off-topic there, hasn't she?" Sirius said. "I thought the article was on Greebe, not you."

"I'm more interesting," Severus said dryly. "I'm not dead."

"I wonder who the next professor will be," James mumbled through a mouthful of oatmeal. "I hope they're good."

"There was an article on that in here somewhere," Remus said, grabbing their copy of the _Prophet_ and flipping through the pages. "The Minister appointed some secretary from Crouch's staff, since they're so mad about the way Greebe turned out and because it was such short notice... I think it's a lady."

"Really?" James asked. "Hopefully she's an Auror. That way we might actually learn something."

"A pretty Auror." Sirius grinned wickedly. "With long, curly hair and huge—"

"_Padfoot!_"

Remus' reproach went unnoticed, as Dumbledore chose that moment to enter the Great Hall—accompanied by one of the most revolting women Severus had ever laid eyes on. It wasn't just her physical unattractiveness: her short, pudgy body and flat, toad-like face—and it wasn't just her horrid pink cardigan and the infantile bow perched on her mouse-brown curls—it was her mind. Her mind was like a candy-coated bubotuber, like sugary icing on a moldy cupcake... She was disgusting.

"So much for a hot Auror," James whispered.

Dumbledore reached his usual seat at the High Table but remained standing. The laughter and chatter of Sunday's breakfast vanished as the students turned to listen.

"By now many of you will have learned of the unfortunate demise of our Defense Professor, Mr. Adalbert Greebe. I would like to take this moment to assure you that, whatever you may hear, this incident did not take place at Hogwarts and you are in no more danger here than you would be anywhere else."

The squat, ugly witch beside Dumbledore made a small, exaggerated face of surprise.

"On a more cheerful note, I would like to welcome Professor Dolores Umbridge, who has not only agreed to serve as our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, but will be working to promote further cooperation between Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic as we stand together against the evils outside these walls."

Dumbledore sat down and began to clap. As the students joined in Umbridge inclined her head and treated them all to a sickly sweet smile before sitting down beside Dumbledore. Severus noted that McGonagall did not appear happy about Greebe's replacement; her mouth was very thin and she was exchanging meaningful glances with Andromeda and Ted. Nymphadora, oblivious, was playing with her oatmeal—reminding Severus that he had another session with Ted in fifteen minutes...

"So she's still working for the Ministry," Sirius murmured. "You reckon they're trying to keep closer tabs on Dumbledore? After all, it said in the article—"

Severus let Sirius' chatter wash right over him. He was studying the new professor, whose eyes were methodically scanning Gryffindor table. For a moment he met her gaze and Umbridge smiled once more. She turned away and began serving herself breakfast, leaving Severus with an uneasy feeling in his stomach and the premonition that Defense lessons were not about to get better—_indeed, they may be about to get much, much worse..._

"So?" James demanded of Frank and Davey almost exactly forty-eight hours later. "You had her last night, right? What's she like? How much can we get away with?"

Frank and Davey gave each other significant glances over the pitcher of orange juice. "She's awful," said Davey flatly. "No sense of humor whatsoever—and that stupid book we all had to buy? It's the dullest thing ever written, and apparently she doesn't believe in practical lessons."

"No sense of humor?" Sirius repeated. "So you think we should hold off on the pranks until we know her a bit better?"

"Hold off on them _altogether,_" Frank said. "I was whispering something to Davey last class, and she caught me and gave me detention—she has this absolutely horrid quill that writes with your blood."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Blood? How does that work?"

"It cuts your hand with the words you're writing," Frank explained, pointing to the back of his hand. "It's not permanent or anything, and it doesn't hurt _that_ bad, but still. She's nasty. You don't want to cross her if you can help it."

Remus glanced at the clock. "Then we'd better move—class starts in six minutes."

The Marauders hurried up the wide marble staircase to the first floor, where they joined the queue of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws outside the Defense classroom. Soon afterwards the door swung open and Severus took his usual seat near the back of the room between Remus and James. He pulled out his copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard and waited for Umbridge to start the lesson.

"Good morning, class!" she said cheerfully. After a bit of prompting the class responded with: "Good morning, Professor Umbridge."

"Well, I would introduce myself, but our _esteemed_ Headmaster has already done that, hasn't he?"

Severus frowned. He did not like the way she spoke of Dumbledore, and her high-pitched voice reminded him forcefully of the brainless little girls in Nymphadora's films.

"You know, of course, that I have not only the _honor_ of teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts, but the privilege of representing the Ministry of Magic at Hogwarts as well. The Ministry takes great pride in the abilities of our young wizards and witches and sincerely wishes the very best education for each and every student at this school. Should you ever feel unsafe or afraid while at Hogwarts, the Ministry and I are here to help, and my door is always open for a student in need." Umbridge's smile was so sweet Severus was surprised it did not attract flies. He glanced around and saw faces contorted with various expressions of amusement and disbelief.

_Ha,_ said Sirius. _Like anyone in the school would go to her rather than their Head of House or Dumbledore._

"As I stated before, your education is of the most vital importance, so why don't we get started? Wands and books away, please."

There were a few sighs and much rustling of bags and parchment as half the class put away their books and wands.

"Now," Umbridge continued. "You have had many different teachers in this subject so far, I understand—and none of them seem to have followed Ministry-approved guidelines for teaching. Therefore this class period will be spent reviewing what you've learned already, so I can see how far behind everyone is." Severus glanced at Remus, who was wearing an incredulous face mirrored by every other student in the room—for while it was true that Pendergrass and Greebe had been incompetent, their second and third year teachers had been quite capable, and even Professor Clagworm hadn't been too bad. _We can't be that far behind..._

"First question: can anyone tell me_why_ it is important to understand the principles of defensive response to magical attacks?"

Severus stared. So did everyone else.

_I don't believe this. Is she actually asking us WHY we should know how to defend ourselves? _James said. _Merlin, how thick does she think we are? Even Nymphadora knows that!_

"Anyone?" Umbridge repeated. "What about you, Miss—?"

"Evans," said Lily. "Lily Evans. Um, it's important because that way we can defend ourselves from attacks." Severus could tell she was fighting not to add _duh_ to the end of her sentence.

"Very good, Miss Evans. Indeed, in these dark times it is important for everyone to know what sort of evasive action to take against enemies. Second question: can anyone explain why it is acceptable, under certain conditions, to use defensive spells?"

The class stared again. Umbridge called on one of the Ravenclaws, who answered: "Because if you don't you're going to get hexed or cursed."

"Right again! Now, who can explain why it is _unacceptable_ to retaliate with another jinx or hex? Mr. Potter?" Severus didn't even bother to wonder why she knew James' name.

"But it's not," James said instantly.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Potter?" Umbridge raised her eyebrows, peering across the room at them. "I believe I misheard you."

"I mean—retaliating does put you on the same level as whoever you're fighting, and you don't want to maim anybody—but if someone who wants to kill you is coming after you with a wand, you want to incapacitate them, right?"

Umbridge smiled sweetly and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter—I'm afraid that is incorrect."

"What's incorrect about it?" Sirius snapped. "Didn't someone famous say 'the best defense is a good offense' or whatnot?"

Umbridge peered even more intently at the Marauders' table. "I will expect you to use your _hand,_ in the future, Mr. Black—and I do believe that a Ministry-approved teaching curriculum carries _slightly_ more credibility than an anonymous quote." She laughed briefly in a fluttering way that made Severus cringe.

"What about Aurors?" James asked. "They use offensive spells—"

"Are you an Auror, Mr. Potter?"

"No, but—"

"Then please take care not to compare yourself to highly-trained Ministry of Magic employees. Next question—and your name is?" She turned to a Ravenclaw Severus didn't recognize, who had raised his hand.

"Gaspard Shingleton. Excuse me, but are you saying that using jinxes to defend yourself against Death Eaters is _bad?_"

"Mr. Shingleton, you are a fifth year at Hogwarts. Though these are dark times, we have Aurors and hit-wizards to capture criminals—you certainly do not need to be concerned with fighting You-Know-Who. The odds that you should find yourself in a life-threatening situation are so slim as to be laughable, and should you encounter such a situation, your most productive course of action would be to leave the area as quickly as possible."

Another dozen hands—including Remus', James' and Sirius'—shot up into the air, presumably in protest.

"Miss Evans?"

"But what if you can't leave? What if you're trapped—"

"As I said before, the odds of finding yourself in such a situation are laughable."

"I was in such a situation three days ago!" Lily snapped.

Umbridge smiled her wicked, sweet smile at Lily. "That is what comes from keeping unadvisable company, Miss Evans." Severus had a good idea who 'unadvisable' meant.

"But she's a Muggleborn!" James protested. "You-Know-Who is after _all_ the—"

"_Hand,_ Mr. Potter!"

James shot his hand into the air furiously and Umbridge seemed to take pleasure in turning away from him. "One last question, class—a bonus, one might call it. Suitable for someone who knows a good deal about the Dark Arts..."

Severus knew she was going to call on him before she'd even asked the question. She'd been staring at him throughout the whole lesson, after all... and he did not like whatever malice was flashing in her eyes.

"Who would like to explain why counter-jinxes are improperly named? Anyone? Mr. Snape, how about you?"

Severus, who thought 'counter-jinx' was quite an appropriate name for a spell designed to counter a jinx, thought furiously about what this great toad would _want_ to hear...

"Because 'counter-jinx' makes it sound like a defensive spell rather than an offensive spell."

Umbridge frowned at him. "And...?"

Severus, surprised he'd gotten the first part right, couldn't think of anything else to add. "And, um, that's improper?"

Several people smiled, though no one dared laugh, and James muttered _good save_ in Severus' mind. Umbridge was not amused.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor and a week's worth of detention." The room went dead silent. Severus saw several mouths hanging slightly open; he did not change his facial expression, but continued to stare Umbridge in the eyes. "I will not be mocked in my own classroom, _Mr._ Snape, and I expect to be addressed as 'Ma'am' or 'Professor' in the future."

"You didn't tell _us_ to call you ma'am, Professor!" James protested.

"Would you like detention too?" she asked sweetly. James did not respond. "I thought not. Now," she said, lifting her eyes to gaze across the entire classroom, "would you please take out your books and read chapter one: _Basics for Beginners_. Talking will not be necessary."

Severus pulled out his copy ofDefensive Magical Theory and quickly scanned the opening page—it was just as dull and pointless as Davey had promised. He opted to join the silent conversation instead.

_Okay, it's official, Sev—she hates your guts._

_ Like I couldn't have figured that out, Padfoot._

_ We'll complain to McGonagall,_ James said furiously. _She can't dock you fifty points for no good reason—not to mention the detentions—_

_ Do you think McGonagall would do anything, though?_ Remus asked. _I mean—I think you should tell her, but Umbridge is a Professor, after all. She has every right to take points and give detentions._

_ Um-butt-ridge, you mean,_ Sirius corrected, causing James to choke as he tried to hide his laughter.

_Let's just let it go for now,_ Severus said. _I have a feeling that the more we protest, the worse she'll get._

James made an incredulous sound in his head. _You think she can get any worse?_

_ Ask me after the first detention._

Severus knocked once on the door. "Come in," called a girlish, fluttery voice. Severus made a gagging gesture, simply to amuse himself, then opened the door and stepped inside.

"Ah yes, _Mr._ Snape. Do sit down."

Severus sat slowly in the chair before Umbridge's desk, surveying the office. It was filled with frills and lace and dollies, and a horrid selection of plates featuring brightly colored kittens was displayed behind her chair. The room looked like the domain of a six-year-old girl, though Severus suspected Nymphadora would have better taste.

Umbridge smiled at him from behind her desk. "Mr. Snape. A troublemaker, I see. Already in detention after your first class—tsk, tsk, such a naughty boy. But I suppose You-Know-Who _would_ be a bad influence on even the best of us."

Severus blinked but did not say a word.

"I've heard a great deal about you, Mr. Snape. About how you seem to think yourself above the rest of us, simply because you made the mistake of joining the Death Eaters but were too cowardly to remain—"

"I did not join by choice,_Professor,_" Severus hissed.

"Nonsense. We must all strive not to hide our mistakes, Mr. Snape—only when they are out in the open can they be corrected. The Headmaster, for instance, has made multiple errors in judgment most recently—shocking errors, which some might even consider signs of senility or insanity—"

Severus' grip on the seat of his chair was very tight. "Please do not insult the Headmaster in front of me, _Professor,_" he snarled from between clenched teeth.

Umbridge shook her head in mock sorrow. "Tsk, tsk... Arrogance once more, Mr. Snape? That will be another twenty points, and another week's worth of detention. You may be Dumbledore's favorite, but not everyone is so easily fooled." She leaned back and reached in her desk, removing a long roll of parchment and a thin black quill. "I assume your sixth year friend has told you about my little quill?"

"Yes," Severus admitted—there was no point denying it.

Umbridge smiled. "Well, I'm sure you will be delighted to know that I have modified it _just_ for you—I wasn't quite sure whether it was truly worthy of such a person as yourself, Mr. Snape. After all, you have done and seen so much—I doubt a little cut on one hand would faze you!" She smiled again. "Here you are." Umbridge handed him the quill and the parchment, which he saw already had words printed on it:

_I must respect Professor Umbridge and the Ministry of Magic._

"How many lines, Professor?"

"That need not concern you now, Mr. Snape—you have not even started." Umbridge gave him one last, sweet smile before turning towards her own work.

Severus frowned at the quill in his hand before setting it against the parchment and pushing it down for an 'I'. The effect was immediate; a deep cut appeared on his skin, though not on his right hand, as he'd expected. As he continued to write, _I must respect Professor Umbridge_ spread across his left hand, just as _and the Ministry of Magic_ appeared on his right. As he finished each sentence the cuts disappeared and he started all over again. And again. And again. And again.

What felt like hours later, Umbridge looked up from her work and smiled at him once again. "Hands." Severus dropped the quill and held out his hands, which were now aching sharply and relentlessly. "My, my. Too arrogant to admit we are in pain, Mr. Snape?" she whispered.

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed.

Umbridge's eyes flashed. "For cheek, Mr. Snape, you may continue writing." She turned back to her own books, leaving Severus to contemplate both the fact that he had just been a complete idiot and the never-ending task ahead of him.

Perhaps an hour later she dismissed him. Severus left as quickly as he could, glad to be away from the nasty, wretched, foul woman... _Um-butt-ridge._ He sighed and flexed his hands, which were red, and raw, and smarting fiercely.

Sirius, James and Remus were waiting for him in the dormitory.

"I still think you should tell McGonagall," Remus said as Severus threw on his pajama top. "Or someone—Dumbledore. Or Ted."

"She's doing it to _everyone_ who gets detention, not just me," Severus pointed out.

"Yeah, but that doesn't make it any less sickening," said James.

"Decide tomorrow," Sirius groaned from beneath his pillows. "We had Quidditch practice all afternoon and I'm _tired_."

* * *

Deepest apologises for the wait. I'm trying to double major here, and school has been ridiculous. Meanwhile, the questions (for those who feel like reviewing!):

What was orange? What was enthusiastic? What was humorous? What was horrific? What was inedible? What will happen tomorrow? And what do Eppy the House Elf (of Azkaban Parody fame!), Chuck Norris and Darth Vader have in common?

**July 14, 2008:**

**Hello everyone! I'm sure I've disappointed a lot of people by this not being an update, but I felt I owed everyone an explanation.**

**Point 1. THIS IS NOT ABANDONED. Chill out.**

**Point 2. The reason the past few updates have been so slow is because I was having arguments with the ending of the story, and these last 2-3 chapters are a bit of a turning point that later connects with the ending.**

**Point 3. I realized recently that the -reason- I'm having such an impossible time with the ending is because there is a GIGANTIC HUGE FREAKIN' PLOT HOLE the size of Hagrid in this half of the fic, and thus any possible plot resolutions sort of fall apart.**

**Point 4. I debated leaving the next ten or so chapters as-is and tying up a loose ending, but that would be terribly sloppy and I would prefer to turn out better work, no matter how long it takes. **

**Conclusion: I need to go back and pick apart the final arc(s) of this story (almost all of which hasn't been posted yet), brainstorm some new plot points, rewrite some chapters, edit others, slice, dice, blend and re-merge. And even more fun, my muse has been ignoring me (when it's not throwing rotten fruit).**

**So, I'm sorry, but, realistically, it'll probably be another month or two (at least) until the next update. However, when I do update, that means I've figured out my problem and finished the rest of the fic, and the last twenty or so updates should be much more timely. This is probably going to involve rewriting and reposting this chapter and a bit of the previous chapter, so don't get too attached! ;) **

**Until next time, thanks for your encouragement and hope you're all having a good summer! -Viskii**


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